


Separated

by imbeccable



Category: Animaniacs
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Feels, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Harm to Children, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Brain/Pinky (Pinky and the Brain), Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Non-Binary Wakko Warner, Selectively Mute Wakko Warner, The Warner Siblings Are Neurodivergent, Wakko's Wish, or rather pre-canon divergence, why isn't that a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 57,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28559088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imbeccable/pseuds/imbeccable
Summary: In which King Salazar, riding the victory of overtaking Warnerstock, decides Yakko, Wakko, and Dot would be much less of a future threat if they... spent some time apart.
Relationships: Dot Warner & Original Character(s), Dot Warner & Wakko Warner & Yakko Warner, Wakko Warner & Original Character(s), Yakko Warner & Original Character(s)
Comments: 92
Kudos: 137





	1. Prologue: King Salazar Says 'No!' To Murdering Children

**Author's Note:**

> salazar: no i won't kill children yes i would split them up never to see each other again no that's not crueler than just killing them shut UP
> 
> first fic of the year and it's just... angst, huh. hope that's not an indicator for the rest of the year.
> 
> This was mildly inspired from the anastasia au "Once Upon a December" on ao3, mostly just the Separation Angst, so you have them to thank for this lmao. (also if you haven't read that yet, DO IT, it's so good)
> 
> also comments give me life. just.... just saying..................................................

Salazar and a few of his men were just leaving the room where he’d… _taken care of_ Warnerstock’s remaining rulership, his sword still wet and running, when another one of his soldiers approached him.

“Sir!” he greeted. “We’ve found the Warner children. They were trying to sneak out through the servant’s quarters.”

“Wonderful.” Salazar pulled a cloth from his pocket and began wiping the ink from his sword. “Lock them in the dungeons for now. Make sure there’s no windows or cracks to the outside; those _toons_ can be quite slippery.” He paused, considering, before continuing, “Also, make sure there are at least three guards looking after them at a time. I’ll deal with them once we’ve taken full control of the country.”

“Yes, sir!” The soldier saluted before turning on his heel and making his way back to relay the orders.

From there, Salazar made his way to the balcony that overlooks the courtyard, where his and Warnerstock’s men still battled it out. He took satisfaction in how his own men were handily taking down the enemy before calling for the fighting to end. He announced Queen Angelina’s death (which was the actual thing that stopped Warnerstock’s soldiers from attacking) and called for the enemy’s immediate surrender. “Those who refuse will be _executed_ without mercy.”

Needless to say, it didn’t take long for him to have full control of the castle.

Afterwards, he ordered his men to spread further through Warnerstock and initiate a lockdown of the whole country. Everyone is to stay within their homes until Salazar was officially declared king.

The loss over the coming days after the queen’s assassination of rebelling soldiers and civilians alike was _truly_ unfortunate, but they made their choice and as such, they must live with it. Or, rather, die with it, as it were.

Days later, with less than twenty-four hours before his coronation and the country held tightly in his fist, Salazar finally had the chance to deal with the Warner brats, still under lock and key in the dungeons.

He was on his way down there now with a squadron of guards, including his captain. His plan was to drop them off in some orphanage somewhere, where they could live out their miserable lives in squalor.

And yes, he knew he ought to just kill them now. That would guarantee no trouble from them down the line, as the "rightful heirs" to Warnerstock's throne. He had them right where he wanted them, after all; a simple order would be all that was needed to end the Warner bloodline right here and now.

Only… 

Well, it's not as if Salazar was _heartless._ He didn't care for children, especially not _these_ children, but it wasn't as if he went around slaughtering minors left and right. The idea of telling his soldiers to murder the six-, four-, and two-year-old in his dungeons turned his stomach.

Besides, they're only children. What real harm could they do as they are? Perhaps when they're older, they'll try to be a thorn in his side, but then it'll just be easier on his conscience to kill them anyway.

There were three guards standing outside of the childrens’ dark, damp cell, just as he’d requested days prior. They saluted him once they noticed him and stepped out of his way.

“Open it,” he ordered, and one of them rushed to do so.

The cell door stuttered open under the soldier’s hand, creaky with disuse. Salazar took a single step inside, squinted towards the three small figures in the very back, and requested a torch.

Upon receiving the light, he angled it towards the children, huddled on the floor by the farthest wall.

The eldest clutched his younger siblings close to him, one arm wrapped around the middle sibling, who clung and buried his face into his brother, and the other holding his baby sister, all wrapped up in a dirty, magenta blanket and propped up in the elder’s lap, buried into his chest.

The children were trembling, fur frazzled and unkempt. Their faces were visibly damp, though they seemed to have been shut up in one way or another. Upon hearing the door, the girl had twisted around to look at the intruding person, eyes darting to and fro, seemingly trying to take in Salazar and every soldier behind him as if knowing where they were would protect her in some way. The younger boy’s face stayed buried in his brother’s shoulder. He curled in towards his brother, looking much like a defeated, kicked puppy would. Those were normal reactions, however. The real curiosity was the eldest.

The elder Warner child had yet to take his scared, but defiant eyes off of Salazar. His claws had even punctured through his dirtied gloves, and though his hands cradled his siblings, the claws never even brushed them. He seemed to realize Salazar was the biggest threat to himself and his siblings in the room. Even at the kid’s age, Salazar could see the untapped potential in the brat’s eyes, an intelligence just waiting to be nurtured and developed. He’d be quite the threat once he grew up.

Not that Salazar thought the boy would be able to gather any rebels by the time he grew to the age anyone would listen to him. Salazar plans on ridding Warnerstock of any remaining rebellion within the year. There wasn’t anything an untrained six-year-old ex-prince would be able to do in that time, no matter what intelligence he seemed to have or not.

He was glad the children were at least quiet. The last thing he wanted was to deal with a bunch of sniveling brats.

“So these are the Warner children,” Salazar said. The middle child froze and the girl turned her head back towards her brother with a whimper. Only the eldest looked at him. “How… adorable.”

A high-pitched growl cut through the quiet of the cell. It was coming from the eldest, of course, who clutched his siblings even closer to him as his frankly-adorable growl rumbled from his throat.

Immediately the soldiers behind Salazar began unsheathing their swords, perceiving the sound correctly as a threat against their leader. Also immediately, the sound cut-off abruptly from the ex-prince’s throat.

“How cute that you think you’re at all threatening,” Salazar mused, smirking triumphantly. “If your own soldiers or even your _mother—_ ” The two youngest whimpered and the eldest’s breath hitched at the mention, “—were no match for me, why do you think _you_ are?”

The elder ex-prince raised his chin at Salazar, meeting his own disinterested gaze with an angry, tearful glare. He bared his teeth at the older man, even as his sister burrowed into him and his brother trembled at his side. Or perhaps he did so _because_ of his siblings’ actions. Something like, protecting the last thing he had to lose.

How noble, if naive.

Salazar tilted his head towards the guards stationed here, keeping his gaze on the children. “How were they?”

“Mostly quiet,” one responded. “If anyone came near the oldest would growl, but other than that they just stayed together like that.”

“And their meals?”

“... Limited, like you requested, sir,” he said

To weaken them, of course. Even if they’re children, they’re also _toons._ The eldest definitely would’ve been a pain in the butt to deal with had he been at full strength.

The guard that answered him looked as if he wanted to say something else, but didn’t quite have the courage to do so. It probably had something to do with feeding the children, meaning he’d probably given them more meals than he was supposed to, but Salazar could tell the children were still quite weak. The guard had probably just given in to them begging for more food. They _were_ children, after all. He’d just need to be moved to a position less likely to interact with begging prisoners.

Salazar could just get rid of him, but he needed as many loyal soldiers as possible now. He’d see how the guard did in the future, if he was lenient with the rules Salazar put in place. _Then_ , Salazar would kill him, for insolence.

“What do you want to do with them, sire?” Salazar’s captain asked, bringing him back to the present moment. Salazar glanced behind him momentarily and was about to order the kids’ immediate banishment from the castle when the eldest's glare caught his eye again. He really ought to not be worried about a six-year-old's possible revenge plans, and yet…

 _Hm…_ He took stock of the protectiveness the child showed towards his siblings. How he covered them as much as he could with his body while still standing tall. How the younger children obviously looked toward him for comfort and protection.

Salazar was not heartless enough to kill children, but he had no qualms over breaking an already-broken family.

"Separate them," he finally ordered, stepping aside so his men could enter, and the three children froze. He saw the defiance vanish from the eldest's eyes, replaced by _terror_. As soon as the words processed, his soldiers went to work.

Men poured into the cell. The eldest leapt to his feet, pulling his siblings with him and pushing the younger boy behind him. He tilted his baby sister away as he kicked and swiped with his free hand at the guards, shouting, “No, stop, get away from them! Stay back!”

The middle child and girl started crying in earnest, clinging to their older brother as he desperately tried to keep the men away from them. 

One soldier managed to snatch the eldest’s free arm, allowing an opening for another to grab the girl. The boy gave an ear-piercing scream as she was pulled from his grasp, wailing and crying. The boy ripped his arm from the other soldier and tried to lunge at the man holding his sister, but was caught before he could get very far. He struggled and kicked and scratched as more and more hands tried grabbing at him, shouting, “ _Dot! Dot! Give her back, let her go!_ **_Dot!!_** ”

The middle child stood frozen with fear and trembled in the back of the cell, watching all of this play out. With the older brother distracted and occupied, the remaining soldiers took advantage of the child’s terror to grab him. 

The second he felt hands grasping him and lifting him into the air, he began struggling, scratching, and kicking like his brother, crying out, “ _Yakko! Yakko!_ ”

Yakko, still unrelenting in his struggling, whipped his head back and cried, “ _Wakko! Give him **back**_ _!_ ” He tried to shift his escape towards Wakko, who’d been restrained by three soldiers, but by then his body began to give out on him, having been weakened by the little food he’d consumed over the last week. Four men grasped each one of his appendages, rendering his struggles useless, even as he yanked and squirmed. Toon strength or not, all of them were starved kids. There was no real hope of them winning.

While all of this went on, Salazar turned towards his captain, who seemed mildly uncomfortable with the whole scene in front of him. Salazar paid this no mind. “There is a carriage prepared and waiting to drop these three in an orphanage,” he explained. “Get two others ready as well. Each carriage is to take one child and leave them in separate orphanages across the country. Make sure none of them know where the other two are.”

“Yes, sir,” the captain said, a little subdued.

“Also—” Salazar turned back to the fighting, which had ended. He took in Yakko, the eldest and heir to the throne, who snarled and snapped his teeth and yanked his body every which way, looking every bit the animal his toon family was designed after. “Tell them to leave Yakko in the closest orphanage possible. I wish to keep an eye on him.”

“Yes, sir,” his captain responded, nodding. He looked to his men, who were only a little scraped up from the childrens’ struggles, and called for them to follow him.

Salazar watched as the Warner siblings were carried from the cell in order of age. Dot still wailed and cried for her brothers, but the man holding her kept her swaddled tightly in her blanket, rendering any squirming null. Wakko whimpered like a pathetic puppy, tears dripping down his face as he occasionally mumbled for his siblings or mother. Yakko was the only one with any real fight left, though his despair seemed to catch up with him. Tears streamed down his face even as he growled and snarled, demanding to be let go and for his siblings to be returned to him.

As they were turning out of the cell, Yakko somehow managed to slip his hand from the soldier's holding it. He snatched one of the bars of the cell tightly, momentarily halting the little groups departure, and made eye contact with Salazar. "Wait," he begged, tears still streaming down his face. Salazar held up a hand to halt the soldiers from pulling the boy away. " _P_ _lease_ let us stay together. We're—We're all we _have._ I'm begging you."

What a picture; Warnerstock's heir begging its rival's ruler for mercy. He'd laugh if it weren't so pitiful.

"Hm..." Salazar brought his hand up to his chin as he slowly walked toward the restrained boy. "Well, when you put it like that..." It was almost funny, in a sad way, watching the child's face light up, seeing a hopeful smile spread across it. Salazar smirked, leaning down to get into the child's face. "Ah... no. No, I don't think so."

Yakko's expression shifted to disbelief and horror so quickly it nearly startled a laugh from Salazar. The child's mouth hung open a little, speechless, as Salazar smirked down at him.

Should he be taking such entertainment from tricking this child? Probably not. However, it wasn't his fault the ex-prince was so gullible. Really—what was he expecting? A change of heart all because he wore some pleading eyes? Tried to play at Salazar's heartstrings? 

This wasn't some children's fairy tale. The child needed to face reality.

Salazar stood up straight and looked to one of the men holding the boy, who hadn't yet moved his his frozen, disbelieving position. "Go on then, take him away."

"Yes, sir!"

The moment he was moved again, Yakko started up his struggling again, snapping and attempting to scratch at everyone around him, screaming for the men and Salazar to let him go, to let them all go. It, of course, fell on deaf ears, his weak squirming nothing against the strength of four men.

Salazar let out a soft breath, relaxing, as his men disappeared around the corner. He could still hear Yakko's protests, and Dot's wailing from further down, echoing down the hall. _That was a bigger ordeal than necessary._

Really. Did those brats truly think they stood a chance? 

Salazar rolled his eyes at the thought of three child toons, with barely a decade of life between all three, defeating a squadron of fully trained grown men. Hilarious, really.

He left the cell and made his way back upstairs, towards the throne room. _His_ throne room. He felt a surge of pride for himself and his home country as his steps echoed through the empty room.

He’d finally defeated and taken control of the country that’d been such a thorn in Tictockia’s side for all these years. If his ancestors could see him now…

He walked to the balcony that overlooked the courtyard, seeing three large, sturdy carriages lined up and ready to depart. What quick workers, these Warnerstockians.

He was just in time to see his men start to load the children up. As far as he could hear, Dot had stopped crying and Yakko had stopped his petulant demands. They’d at least quieted down. Actually, it looked like the boy had stopped struggling as much, too.

Salazar squinted, trying to see better, and almost laughed at the sight. It seemed they’d chained the boy! And was that… it _was._

Salazar wondered how their beloved parents would feel, watching their eldest son and heir to the throne be carried from their own castle, shackled and muzzled, off to some no-name orphanage, never to set foot in his home again. Probably horrified. How _delightful._

With a triumphant smirk, Salazar strode away from the balcony as the carriages took off for the main road. He called for a servant and ordered them to tell the captain that the number of soldiers in each of the towns the Warner siblings were dropped in needed to be increased, especially that of Yakko Warner, to make sure the brats never saw each other again. 

Something told him that those three children would be a force to be reckoned with if left together.


	2. First Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yakko parodies Assassin's Creed. Wakko lands in his movie's actual setting. Dot quotes Undertale (in more ways than one).
> 
> Or, the Warner siblings' first days away from home... and each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... *discreetly removes the 'that's just for their parents don't worry about it' tag and hopes no one notices* ...
> 
> ahem. ANYWAY.
> 
> everyone who left a comment last chapter, i owe you my life. i'd die for you. i'd _kill_ for you. i love you. thank you so much.
> 
> Also i took out that one part from last chapter where Yakko threatens Salazar, because at the time i was like "oh yeah yakko would be pissed af" but as I was thinking about it i was like ",,,, this is a six year old." asfasfs 14 yr old Yakko _definitely_ would've said that, but six yr old prince Yakko who hadn't known a moment of hardship before that week in the cell? nah lmaooooo.
> 
> anyway! mind the new tags! i hope you all enjoy this new chapter!

For a moment, after waking up and realizing he wasn’t in that horrible cell, Yakko felt a boneless relief rush through him. _A dream,_ he thought. _A nightmare. It was just a nightmare._ He closed his eyes to bask in the feeling, believing he’d soon be able to go down to breakfast and see his mother smile warmly and watch Wakko eat three times his body weight and laugh at Dot’s disgusted expression and not have to ever ever ever see those suffocatingly dark dungeons again. That moment lasted just long enough to let hope spread through his entire body, leaving him relaxed and unguarded.

Then, when he opened his eyes again, he processed what he saw.

The ceiling. He saw the ceiling, a dark, wooden, unpainted ceiling. He shouldn’t be able to see the ceiling. His bed should have a canopy, a soft, lavender canopy that spilled over the posts of his bed to the floor and made it feel like a lair he schemed and plotted in during the night. _Where is his canopy?_

And another thing, his sheets, his pillow, his _singular_ pillow—they were much rougher than he was used to. They didn’t feel like the soft, slippery silk of his bed at home. And the mattress, it felt worn and… and lumpy.

His face ached around his snout and up his forehead and down the back of his head and along his jaw, just like it had when they'd put that metal and leather _thing_ around his head to shut him up in his nightmare—

This wasn’t his bed. This wasn't his room. This wasn't an imagined pain. His nightmare—it was _real._

He felt a little like he was in freefall, but the bad kind of freefall, where you actually thought you'd get hurt. His dad wasn’t there to catch him before he hit the ground, there was no water for him to splash into, there was no bouncy bed to propel him back up again. His stomach just turned and tumbled and twisted as the reality of his situation sunk in.

_Mom’s dead. I dunno where Wakko and Dot are. I’m… alone._

He didn’t think he’d ever been truly alone in his whole six years of life. He didn’t think he liked it, either.

He slowly sat up and slid his feet off the side of the bed. He stood, then immediately sat back down as his vision staticked. His stomach flipped as he blinked rapidly, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in forever. ~~He’d started giving most of his food to Wakko after that second day, when his brother collapsed and wouldn’t wake up no matter how much he shook him. He remembered _begging_ one of the guards outside for more food, because Wakko was the eating stuff guy and complained that his stomach hurt mere hours before he collapsed and what else could be the problem if not food?~~

Once his vision cleared, he sat there, confused, because that weird static had never happened to him before. 

His eyes suddenly stung harshly and he found himself close to tears, frustrated that he didn’t understand where he was or what was happening. He just wanted to go _home_. He didn’t understand why this was happening to him.

He sniffed harshly and wiped his eyes with shaking hands. He blinked rapidly up at the ceiling, willing his tears to go away, and once they did, he stood up—slower this time—and made his way to the door at the end of the room. He counted a total of forty identical beds on his way out, making that twenty equally spaced beds on each side with a sturdy-looking trunk at each of the ends. The door out (or that he presumed led out) was in the left-hand corner of the far wall.

Yakko cautiously turned the knob and pushed it open, leaning in close to the gap to see outside.

The only thing he saw were wooden stairs leading down to the right. 

Yakko bit his lip, before pushing into the stairwell and making his way down.

At the end of the stairs was another door. He once again pushed the door open and stuck his head through the gap.

There was a long hallway down, with four doors down the hall, two on either wall. He could hear the quiet buzz of conversation coming from the end of the hall. He couldn’t make out any words, but some of the pitches sounded young and high-pitched. Not like his siblings, though. He would be able to pick out his sibs’ voices if he was standing in the middle of a forty-piece orchestra that was playing discordant notes at an _fff_ volume and they were only whispering.

He tip-toed down the hall, the voices becoming much more distinct as he closed in on them. Once he got to the end of the hall, right before the room opened up to a big common area, he pressed himself against the wall and peaked around the corner.

The first thing he noticed was the sheer amount of… children, present. So many kids ran around or colored at the tables, and though the energetic kids sometimes laughed or called out to one another, it was still mostly subdued. Some of them were toons like himself, but most were human. All of them were dressed in simple, clean clothes. A lot of them looked young, probably around his age or younger ~~like Wakko~~ , but there were a few that looked teenaged. Those kids looked… kind of stressed, if he’s honest. Like they’re afraid, but trying to hide it.

Given the fact he remembered wearing that same exact expression many times over the last week, he thinks he might know what caused it.

He saw three adult women of varying ages trying to corral the more rambunctious children. One was an older woman with dark skin and grayed hair who chased around a pair of toddlers as they danced around the tables. Another looked middle-aged, like Yakko’s parents’ advisors did, with her brown hair streaked with gray and seemed to be comforting some of the teenagers in the corner. The youngest looked like she couldn’t be more than twenty-five and was _really_ pretty as she colored with some of the younger children. He felt the need to call out to her like he ~~and Wakko~~ usually did, but he held back, fear making him cautious. They all seemed like they were doing their best, but were just too understaffed. Just where was he?

That’s when he saw the guards decked out in brown tunics standing by what looked like the exit/entrance to whatever this building was. Yakko didn’t know much about guards, but he knew they wore the colors of their nation. And brown was not, in fact, the color of Warnerstock.

However, brown _was_ the color worn by the people who tore him kicking and screaming from his siblings. 

With a whimper, Yakko hid behind the corner again, until only the side of his face peaked around it; he didn’t want those guards to leave his sight.

Through the cacophony of voices, he heard an out-of-place gasp and his eyes immediately flickered towards the sound. He saw the youngest of the three matrons staring at him in surprise and met her eye at the same time she whispered, “Prin—”

She cut herself off immediately, glancing towards the guards at the door. She seemed to compose herself, breathing out a slow breath, before standing and making her way over to Yakko.

He curled in on himself as she approached, not too keen to trust anybody here just yet. Especially not with those men watching over them.

The woman stopped a few feet away from him and knelt so that she was near eye level. She rested her folded arms on her bent knees and gave him a sweet smile. “Hi. Yakko, right?” She kept her voice quiet, like speaking too loudly would get them in trouble.

Yakko gave her a halting nod, bringing his arms close to his chest.

“I bet you’re really confused, huh,” she continued. He nodded again. “Will you let me explain everything? Come, follow me.” She offered him her hand while gesturing with her head to the other side of the room that Yakko hadn’t noticed. There were sofas and big reading chairs surrounding a big stone fireplace that was nestled in the wall parallel to the building’s entrance door.

Yakko hesitated, but ultimately he wanted to know where he was and what happened after… just, _after,_ so he took her hand.

Her smile widened just a little and she gently gripped her hand around his before standing up. She led him to one of the reading chairs, one that was tilted enough that, once he climbed up onto it, Yakko could see the guards at the end of the room. He wondered if she picked it on purpose, so he could keep an eye on them. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Regardless, he was thankful.

The woman knelt in front of him again, making herself appear smaller as she gazed up at him, still smiling. “So. Before we start, can you tell me what you remember?”

Yakko winced as his siblings terrified faces flashed in his mind. “I was, um… put in a carriage. They were taking me somewhere, but—but they wouldn’t tell me where.” He felt his tears from earlier start to come back and his breath came with shaky gasps. “A-And they wouldn’t tell me where my s-sibs were and th-they put something weird a-around my head that didn’t let me t- _talk_ and I-I kept trying to _leave_ and then they put s-something in me that made me sleepy a-and now I’m _here._ ” He sniffed noisily and used both his hands to wipe at the tears dripping down his face.

“Oh, I’m so sorry that happened, Yakko,” the woman whispered, sounding genuinely sad. Her hand came up and gently rubbed his knee, trying to be comforting without being too invasive. “I’m sure that was hard to say. You did so good telling me. Can you take a deep breath in for me? Like this.” She took in an exaggerated breath and slowly let it out. “Can you do that for me, bud?”

Yakko sniffled again and tried to take in a big breath like she did, but his chest spasmed and it wheezed out too soon. 

“That’s okay, Yakko, let’s try again, yeah?” She took in another deep breath and Yakko tried to copy her. This went on for another few minutes, until Yakko had calmed down and was breathing normally. Even his tears had abated.

“You did so well, Yakko, good job. Do you feel better?” she asked.

Yakko gave a shy nod and she smiled again.

“Alright,” she said. “We can get onto your questions now. Anywhere I should start?”

Yakko glanced down at his hands and wrung them together, picking at the tips of his gloves. They had tiny holes in them from where his claws had broken through. He stopped playing with his gloves upon noticing that, and curled his hands into fists. “Um… where am I?”

“This is Aunt May’s Children’s Orphanage, in Capital City,” she responded immediately.

Even though he’d heard the name of the city before, he still scrunched up his face a little. “... The city sounds like it was written by a lazy author,” he said.

The woman laughed a little. “Well, it should get props for being obvious at least, right? Capital City is the capital of Warnerstock, so it’s easy to learn.”

He felt a small grin pull at his cheeks, this type of conversation much more familiar. “Now that just sounds like over-explaining exposition.”

“Moving on,” she said with a wave of her hand, eliciting a small giggle from him. “Anything else specific you want to know?”

“What’s your name?” Yakko asked, thinking it’s weird that it’d been a thousand words since she was introduced and he still didn’t know what to call her.

“Mai,” she said, and just as Yakko opened his mouth, she continued, her smile taking on an amused note, “And no, not like the orphanage. We’re different people, it’s just a fun little coincidence.”

“Oh,” he said, laughing a little, before thinking of his next question. He clenched his pants tightly in his fists. “Um. Why am I here?”

Mai flinched a little, her smile looking much more forced than before. “Well. That’s a little complicated, Yakko—”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because…” She let out a little breath. “Because of what happened last week. Just—the important part is that, for the foreseeable future, Aunt May’s will be your new home.”

Yakko stared. Then blinked. And blinked some more. Because… well, that just didn’t make sense. This wasn't ’t his home. It’s _close_ to his home, just a short carriage ride away, but this _wasn't_ home.

“No,” he said.

“Yakko?”

“No,” he repeated. “No, this—this isn’t my home.”

Mai tilted her head, her expression sympathetic. “I—I know it isn’t, not yet, but you can make it—!”

“No!” he shouted, startling her. He leapt to his feet, standing on the chair. “No, it won’t be! You can’t make me! I want to go home, I—I want my sibs! Where are they?"

“Yakko—Yakko, please get off the chair,” Mai pleaded, standing up as well. Her eyes flickered from him to the guards, who were looking at the two of them, and back. “We have to be quiet, Yakko—”

“No!” he cried again, backing up until he hit the back of the chair. He spun around and started clamoring to the top of it, aiming to jump from it and _bolt_. “I-I want my siblings back! I want my mom! I wanna go home, let me go _home!_ ”

The guards started making their way towards Yakko and Mai, shoving through the crowds of children that had stopped and stared at the scene Yakko made.

“No, get away from him, everything’s fine!” Mai cried, zipping around the chair to get between the approaching guards and Yakko, who balanced precariously on the top of the chair.

“Out of the way, ma’am,” one of the men ordered as they neared them.

“Can’t you see he’s scared?” she pleaded. “Please, let me calm him down, you don’t have—!” She was pushed aside roughly, causing her to fall to the ground.

The men reached for him, but he jumped over their hands and landed on one of their helmeted heads. He launched off of the guard, sending the man into the chair, and was out the door the second he reached it.

He ran down the street as fast as he could, passing by people running errands and doing work. He shoved through crowds, ignoring the startled exclamations of his name. He looked around wildly as he ran, trying to find any indication of where he was in the city.

_Exit, exit, I need the exit! How do I get out of here?!_

He just needed to get out of town. Then he’d be safe! He could find his sibs! And—And they could be together again. It didn’t matter what happened after that, as long as he had them by his side again.

He’d—He’d already broken his promise, but he could make up for that! He could find them and then it wouldn’t matter that he’d accidentally lied! Everything would be okay.

Tears and air stung his eye as he ran. He hated crying so _much._ He couldn’t even do it the funny way, all loud and obnoxious, because there were too many bad people around and he was trying to flee.

Speaking of— “There he is!”

Yakko looked over his shoulder and saw _a lot more_ guards than had been at the orphanage pushing through the crowd. _Shoot!_

He turned back to look in front of him and finally noticed the big stone wall that seemed to surround the whole city. That has to be the way out!

He laughed with relief and pushed himself to run faster. The edges of his vision were a bit pixel-y and tingles ran up and down his arms and legs, but he was so close! He could rest after he got away, he just had to get past the wall!

He knew he could try to run at toon speed, which was one of the first things his parents had taught him to do, but he needed as much energy as possible to be able to toon jump over the wall. He didn’t jump like that often, especially since his sibs didn’t know how to yet, so he was out of practice. But it should be similar enough to a toon run, right? He just needs to make his feet extra boingy and BAM! Yakko has left the building! (Or city, rather. You get it).

The wall got closer and closer the more he ran, and his body felt like it was relaxing too early in relief. He’s _so close,_ just a little _further—!_

“He’s gonna jump!” one of the guards behind him shouted.

 _Just try and stop me!_ he dared in his head just before he crouched down and _JUMPED!_

He felt hope and relief rush through his tired body as he felt himself elasticize and begin to soar into the air.

And the next moment, all of that was abruptly sucked out of him as something struck him in the side.

Immediately, his momentum began to drop, as if his toon powers had been shut off, and he fell back to the ground, his mind hazing over. As he fell, he thought he might’ve heard an eagle shriek from somewhere above him, but he wasn’t sure. He landed in a pile of hay loaded in a big wooden wagon, eyelids fluttering. He turned his head as much as he could to look at his side and saw a toon-tranq dart protruding from his side, the thing that’d been used on him in the carriage ride here.

Yakko collapsed into the hay again, his previous exhaustion mixing well with the tranquilizer. He heard the many guards chasing him run up to the hay cart, probably ready to haul him back off to the orphanage.

Before he conked out again, Yakko gasped, referring to the whole falling sequence, “Nice… reference…” Then darkness.

—

_“Yakko?” Wakko began haltingly. “What’s gonna happen to us?”_

_“... I dunno,” Yakko answered, nuzzling Dot’s head from where she laid against his chest. “But… but I **do** know we’re gonna be together every step of the way. Nothing can keep the Warner brothers apart!” _

_“An’ the Wa’ne’ sistah,” Dot cut in._

_Wakko and Yakko giggled and curled in closer to her. Yakko tilted Dot’s head up and nuzzled his nose against hers, eliciting a musical giggle. “Exactly!”_

_The mood dipped as silence stretched between them, after that. Yakko was dozing, eyes fluttering every few seconds, when Wakko spoke up again._

_“Do you promise?”_

_“Hm?” Yakko blinked his eyes rapidly to try and wake up. “Do I promise wha’?”_

_“That we’ll stay together. Do you promise?”_

_“Of course I do,” Yakko answered instantly. There was nothing and nobody who could tear him from his darling sibs. “We’ll be together forever.”_

_“Forever…” Wakko mused. A moment paused, and then he grinned, the biggest Yakko had seen all week, and something tight in his chest loosened a little. “I like the sound of that!”_

_Yakko hummed in agreement, returning Wakko’s grin with one of his own. Wakko buried in closer to Yakko, then, shuffling down so his head was against Yakko’s chest and next to Dot's. “G’night,” he said, even though they had no way of knowing if it was actually nighttime or not._

_“G’night, Wak.”_

_He only allowed himself to fall asleep once both of his sibs were out like lights._

—

Waking up the second time was much less nice.

When Yakko blinked his eyes awake slowly and blearily, he knew exactly where he was. More specifically, he knew where he _wasn’t_ and who he wasn’t _with_ and what he had failed to _do._ And as such, it wasn’t all that surprising it made him cry all over again.

“Oh, darling…”

Yakko hiccuped and looked to the side, where Mai sat in a wooden chair she’d pulled up. She set aside the book she’d been reading.

“I wa-wanna go home,” he sobbed.

“I know, bud, I know.” Mai nodded. “You can’t, though. If you did, Salazar would just bring you back here." Salazar… was that the name of the man who did this? "Do you want a hug?”

He did, but not from her, so he shook his head. She nodded again as he covered his face with his hands and _grieved_.

After a minute or so of him crying, Yakko turned to her again and asked, “Why is this happening?”

Mai looked behind her at the empty room and the closed door before turning back to Yakko, leaning in close, and whispering, “Because Salazar is a very bad man. And sometimes bad men like him think they can get away with whatever they want, just because they know how to spread fear.”

Yakko nodded along. That sort of sounded like how his mother described the villains in his fairytales, whenever he asked her why they did what they did. He wondered if his fairytale villains were based off of Salazar. 

He had another question, but he didn’t think he’d like Mai’s answer. He hesitated, but ultimately asked, “Why’d he split me ‘n my sibs up?”

Mai paused, looking troubled, before sighing. “I don’t know,” she answered, still quiet. “Bad men like that don’t always have reasons for why they do cruel things. He just wanted to be mean.”

That also sounded like mom’s explanation of fairytale villains.

Yakko sniffed and wiped his nose before sitting up. He bent his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, laying his head on top of his arms. 

There was… something else he wanted to talk about. Mai was really nice and comforting, but he’d only known her for a collective few minutes. What if it was a trick? Some of the guards (but never the one that'd saved Wakko's life _—_ he always quietly gave them more food and refused to look Yakko in the eye) that watched over him and his sibs while they were locked in that horrible cell would pull tricks on them like that, like making them think they were getting more food after Wakko’s incident but instead just given them a lot of food-shaped dirt (not that Wakko minded) or when Dot had been thirsty and Yakko asked for water and he _got_ the water, but only in the form of them all getting soaked by a bucket of freezing water. It made him want to retaliate, want to make them his _special friends_ , but his toon powers hadn't been working all that well because he was so weak and hungry. What if Mai was being nice so she could hurt him later?

“You look like you wanna say somethin’,” Mai prompted gently.

He looked at her and felt torn with indecision. He didn’t want to open up like that and risk being burned, but he felt like he was about to overflow with everything inside him. It was all too much.

“I lied to ‘em,” he finally whispered.

“Hm?”

“My sibs.” His voice wavered. “I promised ‘em we’d stay together no matter what and I lied.”

“That’s not your fault, Yakko.” 

"Isn't it?" he asked even though she looked intensively protective and like she believed every word she said. "I told them it'd be fine and it wasn't. I _—_ I got their hopes up and I _hurt_ them."

Mai glanced behind her again before turning back to him with a fire in her eyes. “ _Salazar_ put you in that position. He’s to blame for you being separated, not you. You couldn’t have known he’d force you three apart. You were trying to make them feel better; _never_ be sorry for giving someone hope.”

Mai had been speaking the truth so far, Yakko thought. He at least agreed with everything else she said, more or less. So even if guilt continued to claw at his chest, Yakko supposed he could try and make himself believe it.

“Okay,” he said, a bit of tension falling from his shoulders. He looked away from her before saying, “Couldn’t you just…” He shook his head. “I dunno, just take me to them? They’re in other orphanages, right? Can’t you sneak me out?”

“I’d love to, Yakko.” He glanced at her and he could see that she really did; her eyes shown with regret and anger, but not at him. “But Salazar has the city firmly in his grasp. There are soldiers everywhere, and they’ve been talking about having thorough checks of any goods that come and go from the city. We’d be found out.”

“But—I can’t just _give up._ ” He lifted his head. “They’re my _siblings,_ they’re—they’re all I have left…” The fight seeped out of him and he dropped his head again. He felt tears pricking his eyes again. “I can’t just abandon them…”

Mai hesitated before sighing. “Okay, listen. We can try and talk about this more later, but—!”

Yakko’s head shot up as he shouted, “Really—?!”

“ _But—_ ” Mai stressed quietly, covering his mouth. “But we have to be smart about it, okay? Discreet and quiet. I don’t want to sugarcoat this, because we’ll be going against Salazar’s direct orders: he spared you once, but that doesn’t mean he’ll spare you again.” Yakko’s eyes widened. “If we’re ever caught trying to break his rules, we might not get a second chance. Do you understand?”

Yakko nodded quickly. Mai sighed in relief and took her hand off his mouth.

“Okay. Good.” Her face turned regretful. “I’m sorry to scare you like that. I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“It’s okay…” he replied.

She took a breath. “Okay. We can talk more about this later. It’s been kind of hectic; you haven’t even eaten yet! Let’s get—”

“Um—!” He shot up and grabbed her arm, keeping her from standing all the way up. “I… actually have one more question.”

Mai’s face softened and she sat back down. “Go ahead, sweetie.”

“Why do you keep looking at the door?” he asked and she winced a little bit. “You did that when I woke up the first time too. You kept looking at the guards there.”

“For the same reason we have to be quiet about getting you out,” she said. “I don’t want any of Salazar’s supporters to hear me talk like that, is all.”

Panic suddenly seized his heart as he thought about his one saving grace in this horrible place being taken from him, and quickly asked, “You’re gonna get in trouble just for talking against him?”

Mai smiled at him, bright and sweet. “We’ve been real quiet, bud, so I think as long as we keep this to ourselves, we’ll be fine.”

So, that’s a yes, then. 

It was at that moment that Yakko’s stomach decided to make itself known. Mai laughed a little at the sound but sobered up when Yakko moaned and gripped his stomach tightly.

“Why don’t we go get you some food?” Mai suggested, offering him her hand. “You’ve been asleep for awhile, including the time you were out before you woke up. You haven’t eaten in at least a day!”

“Longer,” Yakko corrected, accepting her help up.

She paused. “Huh?”

“It’s been longer,” he repeated, starting to limp his way out. “When we were locked up they didn’t give us a lotta food, and Wakko apparently needs more food than your average toon, so I would give most of mine to him so he wouldn’t collapse again.”

“I see.” Her voice was much sharper than he was expecting. When he turned back to her, startled, her face had gone cold and angry, but once she saw him looking at her, she smoothed out her face into a smile again. “That’s unfortunate! But don’t worry, we’ll get a feast prepared for you!” She crossed the room and knelt in front of him, placing her hands on his shoulders. She looked him in the eye and said, “You’ll never go hungry here, okay?”

He felt strangely small as she said that, and shy. He nodded a little, looking at the ground between them. “Okay.”

She squeezed his shoulders, smiling a bit wider, before standing back up and grabbing his hand. “Let’s go get some food, yeah?”

* * *

By the time Wakko’s windowless carriage arrived at its destination, he’d run out of tears to cry. He only softly whimpered and whined, curled up on the seat surrounded by soldiers and gripping his stomach. He was still so hungry… 

The carriage jerked to a stop, startling Wakko and making him look up. The guards on either side of him grabbed his arms to keep him still before the men opposite him opened the door and left. Then Wakko was led out between the two holding him. 

Wakko blinked rapidly as he was thrust into the sun. He flailed about as the men dragged him further, his feet hovering a few inches above the ground since the men were much taller than him. This lasted less than a minute before he was plopped on his feet. Quickly, his eyes adjusted, and he could finally see where he’d been brought.

It was a big stone and wood building. It had narrow but long windows and an angled roof. There were a series of buildings down the road off to the left, all of which were also two-storied. To the right was a small field with train tracks on the far end. Past the tracks were even more fields, and bordering the town were sections of a big forest.

Wakko looked back towards the entrance, where one of the soldiers was talking to an older woman. She looked a little afraid, but mostly concerned. Her eyes would sometimes glance Wakko’s way. When she did, she always looked… sad.

He didn’t have any brain power to figure out why. His stomach hurt.

Finally, the man stopped talking and the woman nodded with a strained smile. She said something, and then both of them disappeared into the building. Moments later, a younger woman came out and made a beeline for Wakko.

The soldiers on either side of Wakko tensed a little and Wakko felt fear shoot through him momentarily as they gripped the hilts of their swords. The woman paused, hands up to show she wasn’t a threat. “I just want to talk to him,” she said. “I work here.”

The men glanced at each other, before both nodding and relaxing.

The woman let out a little breath and came closer until she was a few feet away. She bent down to his level and laid her arms over her knees. She smiled warmly at him and Wakko felt a little of the tension he hadn’t noticed in his shoulders dissipate. She seemed nice. _Really_ nice. She was also really pretty…

Wakko smiled back at her, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, and she giggled a little.

“Hi there,” she greeted. “What’s your name?”

“Wakko,” he replied softly. 

“That’s a fun name. My name’s Abigail.” Her eyes glanced over his head and body. “I like your hat! And your sweater; it looks really warm. It’s cute!”

Without missing a beat, Wakko said, “Dot’s the cute one.” And immediately he felt like he’d been punched in the chest.

His face crumpled when he remembered neither Dot or Yakko were here. He wondered where they were, if they were okay. He wanted to see them again.

Abigail’s face turned sympathetic. “I bet she is,” she agreed, voice quiet. “Do you wanna tell me about her?”

Wakko shook his head quickly, eyes squeezed shut and tongue slapping against his cheeks. 

Abigail nodded. “That’s alright. Hey, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself? What do you like to do for fun?”

 _Run around pranking people with Yakko,_ Wakko thought. _‘Corrupting’ Dot by bringing her along._ Or so one of his parents’ advisors had always said. Wakko had never understood what the man had meant when he said it wasn’t _a lady’s place_ to cause such trouble. He’d also been very against Wakko and Yakko’s pranking. Regardless, his parents had always told the advisor that there’s nothing wrong with a little fun, and his parents were always right, so Yakko and Wakko kept bringing Dot along. It was fun watching the man go all red in the face; if he’d been a toon, steam probably would’ve come out of his ears every time the Warner siblings ran amok.

Those were supposed to be good memories. They made Wakko want to smile, because they were funny, but they mostly just reminded him of the open space on either side of him, the voids that were supposed to be filled by his brother and sister.

Wakko looked down at his feet, feeling like a vice was wrapped around his throat. His hands fisted the excess of his sweater, shaking as his eyes burned.

“Wakko?” Abigail called. 

Not knowing how else to respond, Wakko just shook his head. Somehow, she understood.

“Too much, huh?” Wakko gave a hesitant nod. “That’s alright. I can talk for us both while we wait.”

She started rambling about this and that, talking about her own interests and how wonderful the town is. _Acme Falls,_ she called it, a near-perfect little town tucked into the corner of the country. Everyone was so nice here, and there were all sorts of things to do. The forest was her favorite, because no matter the season, it was always beautiful and adventurous. 

The noise helped. It reminded Wakko of Yakko, always running his mouth, and though that comparison did hurt, the familiarity of it made him calm. Silence was just too loud sometimes, and having Abigail fill it smoothed his fur and relaxed his muscles.

Eventually, Abigail's ramble was cut off by the opening of the door (which had been labeled the entrance to the Acme Falls Orphanage). Abigail stopped talking and turned towards the door, where the soldier that had gone in before and the woman that had answered the door stood once again. The soldier was walking towards all of them and the woman, while looking at Abigail, nodded.

Abigail's face turned serious for a moment, before she turned back to Wakko with a smile. "Hey, those old people are done talking, wanna go explore the inside?"

Wakko looked past her at the building, feeling uncertain. In his hesitation, the soldier (who _was_ really old, how'd she know that?) had reached them. 

"Everything is in order," he said, though it wasn't clear if he was talking to Abigail, Wakko, or the other men. "We leave him in your care. Your head matron will explain the details to you. Good day." Then he walked to the carriage, followed quickly by the other men, without another word.

Abigail huffed as the carriage abruptly pulled away. "What an ass," she muttered. It was so quiet, Wakko didn't think he was supposed to hear it.

"What's an ass?" he asked.

Abigail jumped, a startled laugh escaping her as she looked down at him. "That's—! Um! That's a _bad word_ only for adults to use, 'kay?"

Wakko blinked slowly, not quite understanding. If it's bad, why would she say it, being an adult aside? Adults can be so weird.

He glanced back at the retreating carriage. She’d called that one soldier an ass and she didn’t seem to like him, given her expression, so was it something you called people you didn’t like? 

"Okay," Wakko said, vowing to use it on the first person he deemed his _special friend,_ and Abigail relaxed.

She smiled again soon after. "Hey, let's go inside, yeah? May I pick you up? You can say no."

Wakko thought hard on that one. Abigail was really nice and he wanted to trust her, but… the last few times he'd been picked up it had been forceful and painful and he hadn't been able to get out so he could save his siblings and—

With a frown, Wakko shook his head.

"Okay," she said, still smiling. "May I at least hold your hand?"

That reminded him of Yakko again, how he’d pull Wakko along as they ran down the castle halls, but… in a good way, somehow.

He nodded and she offered him her hand, smile widening for a few moments. He took it and she stood back up. She turned towards the orphanage and started leading him inside, allowing him to walk by her side.

Immediately when they walked in, Wakko saw a dozen or so kids of varying ages. They all either ran around or sat at the round tables on the opposite side of the building. Two other adult women were watching them from the side of the room. Their eyes roved over the kids, watching over them.

Abigail slowly led Wakko towards those women, walking at Wakko’s pace as he took in the orphanage. He focused back in on the adults once they stepped up to them.

“Hey, Marge,” Abigail greeted. “This is Wakko, the kid those soldiers dropped off.”

One of the women (Marge, Wakko presumed), looked at Abigail then down at Wakko. She smiled kindly at him. “Well, hello!”

Wakko raised his free hand and gave a little wave. Behind her, the other unnamed woman looked at him with an incredibly sad expression. She had her hands up by her mouth and her eyes looked wet.

Marge continued, “My name is Marge, as I’m sure you’ve heard. You know Abigail, I bet, and this here is—” She turned to the other woman, who glanced up at Marge. “Oh, hon…”

“He’s so young…” she whispered, so quiet Wakko bet she didn’t want him to hear. He wondered if they knew how good his ears were; this was the second time he’d heard something he wasn’t supposed to. “Where are his—?” 

He felt ice in his veins.

“I don’t know, doll,” Marge whispered back. “It’ll be okay. Come on; buck up.” She cleared her throat and looked back at Wakko with a smile that he now saw was strained. “And this is Mel.”

“Hi, darling,” Mel whispered, waving a little.

Wakko waved back again, a little more subdued. He squeezed Abigail’s hand a little and she squeezed back in response.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” Marge said. Wakko blinked at her, and with a little laugh, she continued, “That’s alright, hon. Do you feel up to meeting the other kids?”

Wakko looked toward the kids running around or drawing. Some of them were staring at him, heads tilted and expressions curious, but most of them paid him no mind. He didn’t really get to see that many other children back home, except for some of the younger servants learning from their parents. It might be fun!

He looked back at Marge and nodded. Marge smiled and turned toward the room. “Hey, kids! Everyone!” Her voice carried and stopped everyone in their tracks, their heads turning toward the adults and Wakko. “Get on over here, we’ve got someone for you to meet!”

Within a minute, the kids all gathered in a semi-circle around Wakko and the adults. Marge smiled at everyone. “Alright, kids? I’d like to introduce you to Wakko.” She turned and gestured to him, still holding onto Abigail’s hand. He blinked at everyone and after a moment waved at them.

“He looks like the king!” one of the older kids suddenly shouted, pointing at Wakko. Abigail and Mel froze a little, and Wakko was confused why that was such a big deal, but Marge took it in stride.

“Yes, it’s quite uncanny, isn’t it?” she said. “He looks just like King William, who has…” She glanced at Wakko, looking apologetic, before continuing, “... since passed. _Now,_ however, our new ruler is King Salazar and Wakko, here, very much _does not_ look like him. As such, we will not be mentioning that again, alright?” She gave a strained smile to everyone.

The kids all looked uncomfortable and the one who had spoken up said, ashamed, “Sorry, Marge…”

Marge softened immediately. “I know. It was a correct comparison and I’m proud you were able to make it. But for the time being, let’s all be a little more cautious when we mention the old rulers, alright? We don’t know how King Salazar will react to such comments.”

The kids all nodded. Abigail squeezed Wakko’s hand, which made him realize he’d been frozen stiff for most of Marge’s speech.

He shook the stillness from his body in a motion similar to a dog shaking water from its fur. A few of the kids laughed, and that made him feel a little better; he loved making people laugh.

“Anyway,” Marge said. “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s all make sure to make Wakko feel welcome, yeah?”

“Yes, Marge!” all the kids responded in unison.

From there was a flurry of activity. After getting a large lunch ~~(and finally feeling like he wasn’t about to collapse with every tiny movement)~~ , Wakko was taken on a tour of the orphanage, from the common room to the kitchens to the washrooms to the courtyard. He was taken upstairs to where the big communal bedroom was and was shown his new bed, and was told he’d be given new clothes to go in his trunk. He’d frowned, because there was no way he was going to ever take off his hat and sweater, but he didn’t say anything. 

From there, a bunch of the older kids led him around town, showing him the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker. And a mime. (Who was immediately run over by a carriage driven by a middle-aged man with a head full of gray hair and an older teenage girl with blond hair. Wakko absolutely lost it laughing, drawing shocked looks from the kids because he’d been silent the entire time).

For the rest of the day, Wakko was taken all over the wonderful village of Acme Falls and was introduced to its many citizens, toon and human alike. When his stomach started growling ~~(and he felt fear crawl up his spine and butterflies dance in his gut and decided he needed food right that absolute second or he’d—well, you know)~~ , they all briefly went back to the orphanage for an early dinner before returning to the tour.

The sun was setting by the time they finished showing Wakko around. The other kids were comfortably exhausted and the matrons helped everyone get ready for bed. Wakko was quiet as he was given worn pajamas to wear and was led to his bed by Abigail. He set the pajamas in the trunk by his bed, to which he got an amused smile from Abigail, and climbed into the bed.

He slipped under the blanket and leaned back against the headboard as Abigail sat on the edge of the bed. 

She smiled at him and brought her hand up. “May I touch you?” she asked and he nodded. She gently caressed his cheek and Wakko nuzzled against her hand. “I’ll see you in the morning, alright?”

He nodded slowly. As she got up, Wakko looked around at the other kids, watching as they all climbed into bed or helped each other up. They all seemed really close. Like a big family. Like he used to be with… 

He… They were orphans, just like him ~~(he’s an orphan he’s an orphan he’s an ** _orphan_** )~~, and yet he… felt so out of place. 

He was struck, then, with an absolutely horrible realization.

“Abigail?” he called, because she was so nice to him and asked if she could touch him or hold him and didn’t force him to do things he didn’t want to and fed him until he was round and had made what he thought was going to be a horrible experience into an only-slightly-painful one and he needed _help_.

She turned back to him, oblivious to his internal struggle, and walked back to the side of his bed. She knelt down to his level with a warm smile. “Yeah, Wakko?”

He gripped the blanket tight in his fists and felt his eyes sting with tears. “I’m… never going home, am I?”

Abigail’s smile fell a little, turning sad. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You’re not. I’m sorry.”

And he knew that, he _knew,_ but—but it all felt unreal, like a nightmare, because how could that have happened? How was anything that happened that morning real? He—Wakko wanted his siblings, he _needed_ them, he needed Yakko and Angel _right here this second,_ but they _weren’t coming_ and that—

It _hurt._

Wakko’s face crumpled as his eyes overflowed. He brought his knees up and bent over them, burying his face into them as he cried. Silent sobs wracked his body as he grieved his lost home, his missing siblings. He felt Abigail wrap her arms around him, one of her hands rubbing up and down his back. He could feel other eyes on him, the surrounding children staring at him as he broke down. 

He wished he could force himself to scream. He wished he could let the whole world know how unfair this was. He wished everyone could hear how badly it hurt.

But his grief only stayed in the silent, visual form of tears and shaking as he cried into his blanketed knees, wishing for all the world that it was his siblings holding him instead of a stranger in a room full of other strangers.

And, obviously, unfortunately, his wish wasn’t to be granted.

* * *

Dot’s trip to her orphanage was very similar to Wakko’s, in that she rode in a dark, windowless carriage and cried until she had no more tears to give. She, too, had been set between two soldiers, leaned against the backseat all wrapped in her magenta blanket. She clung to the fabric tightly with her little fists, absolutely terrified that they’d try to take the last thing she had of home from her. ~~She had been laid against Yakko for most of the week, wrapped in that blanket, and it still smelled like him. She never wanted it to stop smelling like him.~~

When the carriage finally stopped, one of the soldiers picked her up and held her to his cold, metal chest. She squirmed weakly against him, weak and exhausted and hungry, but it didn’t do anything.

The soldiers all filed out of the carriage and walked up to the building they’d stopped in. From the brief glance Dot had as she blinked around, she saw that it was set in the middle of a long string of connected buildings up and down the cobblestone road. It was all so dreary and not very cute.

There was a sign as well. At the time Dot could not read, but you, dear reader, can and as such see the words _Burbank’s Home for Children_ written above the door.

She blinked rapidly as she and the men passed through the threshold of the building, her eyes needing adjusting after the brief exposure to the sun.

She heard one of the men say things to some other stranger Dot didn’t have the energy to process. The stranger called yet another stranger over and after a few moments of conversation that Dot once again couldn’t process, she was passed between hands.

At the very least, this new stranger was warm, Dot thought. Their hands were gentler too. She gently nuzzled closer to the person’s chest, wanting comfort regardless of who was giving it. Her cheek rubbed against something squishy and soft, and immediately Dot thought of her mother.

The woman (because she had to be a woman) giggled a little awkwardly at Dot’s actions and readjusted her grip on Dot. She gently swayed with Dot, but otherwise didn’t interact with her much as the soldiers went into another room with the other stranger (who also looked like a woman, now that Dot got another glance).

It couldn’t have been a minute or so when the woman holding Dot gave a mildly frustrated sigh and looked down at Dot, who blinked slowly back. The woman smiled a little and gently caressed the side of Dot’s face before saying, “Aren’t you the cutest? What’s your name, sweetie?”

_“‘Who’s the cutest girl?’”_

_“‘Tell us your name!’”_

Grief (though she didn’t know its name just yet) rushed through Dot without any warning and she burst into tears.

Her wail pierced the mostly-quiet of the room, startling the woman and the few other kids on the other side of the room.

“What in the world—?” The woman shifted Dot so she laid against her collarbone and was looking over her shoulder. She bounced with her knees while swaying gently left and right. She was trying to calm Dot down, obviously, but…

Well, it just wasn’t working. Dot was inconsolable. The memory of her parents and her brother’s story just reminded her that she was here, in this strange place, surrounded by even stranger people, all alone and without her brothers. She didn’t know where she was or who she was with and all she wanted was to go _home_ already.

Dot was absolutely terrified.

The woman was trying to shush her with empty words of comfort. “C’mon, c’mon, it’s okay, come _on,_ baby, everything’s fine!” She also wasn’t very good at that, either.

“Leslie, is she _still_ crying?” another voice cut in suddenly. Though Dot couldn’t see her, it was the probably-woman- _definitely_ -stranger from before coming out of the other room with the soldiers in tow.

“I can’t get her to stop, I don’t know what’s wrong!” _Leslie_ , apparently, said.

“If I may—” one of the soldiers started and both women turned to him. “She’s probably hungry. They… it was a long trip, after all.”

“That was big suspicious how you switched your sentence like that, but lucky for you, I don’t quite care,” the unnamed woman said. “C’mon then, Les, get a move on and feed her some’a that baby mush.”

“I’m going, I’m going, _sheesh,_ ” Leslie said as she started to walk further into the building. As they went into a hall, Dot momentarily opened her aching, teary eyes and saw the other kids looking at her, miserable and irritable.

It was… an ordeal, trying to get Dot to eat. She was still in the throes of grief, and even if she was absolutely _starving,_ she couldn’t calm down enough to actually accept the food being thrust into her face on a spoon.

“C’mon, baby, there’s food right here! Aren’t you hungry?” Leslie complained. Dot answered her with another wailing sob. 

She let out a frustrated sigh and dropped the spoon back into the little baby food container before slouching back in her chair. She watched Dot cry for another few seconds before saying, “You’re impossible, you know that?” She shook her head and muttered, “Hasn’t even been here an hour and she’s already a handful. This is just _great._ ”

Had Dot not been beside herself with heartache, she would’ve wondered if Leslie knew she could hear her.

Ironically enough, it was only a few minutes later that Dot finally tired herself out. Her wails tampered out to mere whimpers and tears stopped pouring from her eyes. Her bottom lip puckered out as she sat miserably on the table, sniffling and exhausted.

“You done?” Leslie said sarcastically before sitting up again. “C’mon now, let’s get some food in you before you conk out, ‘kay?”

Dot obediently took in a spoonful of the baby mush, and once the food hit her stomach, she immediately felt all her previous hunger hit her. She scarfed down every spoonful like it’d be her last ~~(which, while she didn’t actively think it, her brain certainly _felt_ it would be)~~.

Leslie sighed once Dot finished the whole thing. “Alright then, let’s get you to bed.” She picked Dot up from under her armpits and brought her to eye level before saying with her Baby VoiceTM, “I bet all that annoying crying and wailing tired you out, huh? Huh?”

Dot squirmed from her held position, wanting Leslie to get out of her face. Luckily, she did just that and propped Dot on her hip. She went out of the kitchen and went looking for the other woman.

“Hey, Deborah, you get the crib set up?” Leslie called.

“Yeah,” the now-named _Deborah_ called back. “S’upstairs.”

“‘Kay.” Leslie turned around and started towards the back. All the while Dot looked around, feeling much more clearer of mind.

The inside of the building seemed just as dreary as the outside. The wood was dark and what she could see of the windows were dirty. The drapes were also a dark purple. The only light was a dusty, bronze candle chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. 

The few other kids there looked just as miserable as Dot had felt before, though she doubted any of them had gone through anything half as bad as being torn from her brother’s arms after being left to rot in her own castle’s cells for a week, cold and hungry. ~~At least they’d had each other.~~

The last thing she noticed was that all of the children were human.

Leslie brought Dot to a fairly spacious room full of beds. She carried Dot to the very back of the room, letting Dot see the windowless and dark walls and the unlit candles that lined them. She clung tightly to her blanket and held it up to her face, half-hiding as she glanced about. She had the strangest feeling that some kind of boogeyman was about to jump out from the dark wood. Whenever she pictured it, she realized it kinda looked like the man that’d ripped her world apart. Go fig.

Leslie shifted Dot back into her hands and placed her into an old crib. The mattress felt worn, but at least the sheets were clean. “Alright, let’s get you all tucked in—ugh.” Leslie had started to grab the blanket to place it over Dot, but seemed to feel how grimy, dirty, and mildly damp it was. “Let’s—gosh, this is _disgusting._ Hey, uh, _shit, what’s her—_ um, _kiddo_ , I’m gonna get you a clean blanket, alright? This one has to be cleaned.”

Dot didn’t understand for a moment, until she felt Leslie trying to pull the fabric from her hands. Then she panicked.

“No!” she cried, pulling on the fabric hard. Leslie hadn’t expected such protest, so the blanket easily slipped from her hands. “Is mine, don’ take!”

“C’mon, kid,” Leslie said, frustrated. “It’s not even that soft anymore, don’t you want a nice and clean blanket?”

“No!” Dot answered. She twisted around until she had most of the blanket under her, holding it down with her weight. “No! No!”

“Christ! Fine! I won’t take your stupid blanket!” Leslie conceded, throwing her hands up in the air. “S’just a blanket, jeez,” she muttered.

“Mine, mine,” Dot babbled, feeling close to tears again.

Leslie sighed and turned around. “Anyway, g’night, kid. See you in the morning.” Then, under her breath, like she thought Dot couldn’t hear, she said, “Fuckin’ baby, it’s a _blanket,_ not the end of the world.” Then she reached the door and left.

Dot didn’t think she liked this place very much.

She sniffled noisily and pushed herself up. She grabbed her blanket, its still-bright color visible even in the darkness, and hugged it to her chest. She buried her face in it and took a deep breath in. 

_Yakko,_ she thought. _Home._

Her eyes burned.

She plopped back down onto the mattress, startling as the crib creaked with her movements. She wrestled the blanket around until she was curled in it completely. She felt the emotional exhaustion coming, like ocean water drawing away from the shore and pulling everything within its currents with it moments before a large wave crashes down. (As she would describe it later, when she had such moments again and actually had the words to do so. She would be a poet later in life, after all.)

 _Yakko,_ our current two-year-old Dot thought again, because she didn’t know what else to think. _Yakko. Yakko._ Somewhere in that sad, grieving, confused little mind she must’ve thought if she called out to her dear older brother enough, he might actually come. _Yakko. Yakko. Yakko._ Unfortunate that she broke her heart all over again. _Yakko. Yakko. Yakko. Yakko._

After all, despite her silent pleas for rescue on the first night of thousands in her so-called _new home_ , despite all her wishing and praying and manifesting—

Nobody came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the "in more ways than one" from the summary about Dot quoting Undertale is in reference to her being surrounded by monsters aka the two matrons of the orphanage she was put in :)


	3. The Days Start Comin' and They Don't Stop Comin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yakko goes grocery shopping, misspeaks, and learns to bide his time. Wakko plays some jokes, wears a bootleg sweater, and gets a little angry. Dot makes a new friend, becomes even cuter, and stops crying.
> 
> Or, time passes. In three themes, we see how this affects the kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're curious why this took so long, I would like to direct your attention to the total word count of the fic. If you didn't know, before this chapter, the fic was at 12.3k words. At this time it is 36k. This chapter is a fucking monster and I couldn't shorten it for the life of me. I just wanted three short scenarios for each kid! but no! each one had to be a full length fic! fuck me man. anyway, if you need breaks in between, I suggest you stop between themes instead of arbitrarily.
> 
> also some of your comments make me feel :) but in a suspicious way.
> 
> also x2 i did some retconning and changed Wakko's age to four when the attack happened because I was figuring out timeline stuff (see below) and him being three didn't line up anymore.
> 
> also x3 this chapter jumps around in time. each section will mention in one way or another how long it's been if it's different than the previous section, but if you have an questions, just ask and I'll explain :)
> 
> and finally i'm going to give you a loose set of dates and info so things make sense:  
> Yakko was born in early August, late July. (Leo)  
> Wakko was born in late November. (Sagittarius)  
> Dot was born on March 20th (the first day of spring). (Pisces/Aries)  
> Sir William the Good died in early December.  
> Salazar attacked in mid-January, two and half-ish months after Wakko's fourth birthday and two months-ish before Dot's third birthday.  
> Did I make up their birthdays based on astrology signs? yes, yes i did. (it's not my fault the first day of spring ALSO happens to have the two astrology signs that line up so well with Dot's personality. i call that destiny boyos.)
> 
> anyway. enjoy!
> 
> TW: food hoarding, someone throws up at the start of the third paragraph. If you think anything else needs tagging, let me know in the comments!

### Food

#### Yakko

It started after his second day.

He’d finally gotten to eat again, after being unconscious for nearly his entire first day, and Mai had let Yakko gorge himself for breakfast. It had been late morning, so there hadn’t been much oatmeal left, but Mai had made a special batch just for him. His stomach cramped around his first bite, but absolutely nothing could’ve stopped him from eating in that moment. He ate and ate and ate and didn’t stop eating until it felt his stomach would burst, and even then he ate some more. The pain from his stomach being too full was one hundred times better than the pain from it being empty.

He had thrown up shortly after that. It was painful and humiliating and afterwards he just wanted to keep eating. Mai stopped him, of course. Held him while he cried. Promised over and over that there would _always_ be food and he’d _never_ have to worry about it and that she’d _never_ let him go hungry again. And he wanted to believe her. His brain just didn’t seem to get the memo.

Mai kept an eye on him when he ate now, making sure he wasn’t forcing himself to get food down because he felt he wouldn’t be fed for a long time. He appreciated her help, but it also kind of made him feel helpless, because what if he was still hungry and she didn’t believe him when he said it was _actual_ hunger and not his anxiety? It hadn’t happened yet, but what if it _did_?

Which was around the time when the insistence appeared.

It was just a small voice at the back of his head every time he saw food or went into the kitchen. _Take some,_ it said, _you need it. What if there’s not enough?_

It made him uncomfortable, because he _knew_ that voice was right. What if the orphanage ran out of food? What if they decided he didn’t deserve to eat? He didn’t want to go through that again, it _terrified_ him to even think about being that hungry again, of being so hungry it felt like his stomach was trying to suck him in just to get some kind of sustenance. 

Yakko didn’t do anything about it until maybe half a week after it showed up. He’d been helping dry the many dishes with two of the other kids. He’d turned around to place one of the bigger platters on the island because he didn’t remember where to store it, when he saw the big basket of apples and oranges and bananas just _sitting_ there, drawing fruit flies.

He’d frozen, staring at the fruit as thought after thought raced through his head. _Take it take it it’s going bad it’s being wasted no one will notice anyway just take it take it taKE IT TAKE IT TAKEITAKEITTAKEITAKEIT—_

He took it.

He snatched an apple and dropped it into his overalls before turning back to continue drying the dishes. No one noticed him do it. Afterward, he went back to the beds-room and stuffed the apple in the bottom of his trunk, hidden underneath his Mai-gifted new clothes.

It… calmed him, knowing he had that apple there, just in case. It wasn’t enough, nowhere near enough according to his brain, but it was a start.

So, as the days and weeks and months went on and Yakko adjusted to orphanage life and sibling-less life and learning-how-to-be-a-toon-by-himself-because-no-one-could-teach-him-because-of-Salazar’s-new-rules life, he steadily added to his little pile of food. The fruit would often go bad and he’d have to pitch it (which strangely _hurt_ to do so, as if he were pulling teeth, because technically, he could’ve still eaten it if need be, even if it was black and rotten and horrid; anything to keep himself from starving again) because the fruit would normally start to smell and he was absolutely terrified of anyone finding out about his stash.

He distinctly remembered _not_ having such a hoard when he was back home, after all. He didn’t remember his parents or Wakko or Dot having any either. No one else ever casually mentioned their own little food pile in their rooms. That meant it was probably weird and unusual, which he normally didn’t care much about, but if anyone found out, he was convinced they’d force him to stop. That _couldn’t_ happen. He _needed_ his stash of food, or else he’d—well, he wouldn’t die or anything (probably), but it would make life much more painful. So he _had_ to keep it secret.

And he did so for just over a year. 

—

You may be wondering _How come it took them a year to notice Yakko was stealing and hiding food?_ to which, dear reader, I implore you to see from the adults' point of view. 

The orphanage has forty kids of varying ages in it, and three matrons to tend to them and the building. These kids all have individual needs and wants, and it is just impossible to expect three women to be absolute perfect guardians for all forty children. Not only that, but the adults (with a select few kids) are the only ones who truly understand what happened the night Tictockia took over. Not to mention the horrible public _demonstrations_ that go on every week on Wednesday morning… You can forgive them for being stressed and preoccupied and… well, let's not sugarcoat it, _neglectful_.

It's to be expected, with them so understaffed. Things are bound to fall through the cracks. 

—

A couple days later ~~after the Anniversary~~ , when Yakko was finally starting to feel like himself again, Mai led him away from the rest of the kids in the middle of the day. She had a weird silence about her, but not the kind of angry silence she got when she was… well, angry. She had a look on her face that was kind of… sad? He wasn’t that great at figuring out how to read adults’ faces yet.

Mai knelt down to Yakko’s level, the way she always did when she talked to him, so they conversed like equals. It always made him feel better, but he couldn’t explain why.

(It’s probably something to do with Salazar; everything Yakko feared seemed to revolve around him nowadays.)

She gently placed her hands on Yakko’s shoulders to make him look her in the eye. “Now, Yakko,” Mai started. “I want to preface this by saying you’re not in trouble, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, even though he totally didn’t believe her. Why even mention it then if he wasn't?

She nodded. “Alright. A couple days ago, one of the other kids came to me and told me about something they’d seen.” He felt the ink freeze in his veins. “They were just curious about it, they’re all good kids, you know that. But I wanted to talk to you about it directly because it was a little concerning.”

Yakko didn’t want to talk about it, so he did what he does best: deflecting. “Uhhhhhh, I dunno how to tell you this, but I’m only seven, so I can guarantee that whatever they saw wasn’t me.” He laughed a little, an easy-going smile on his face.

“Yakko.”

The smile froze on his face with her tone, but he continued anyway. “What, you don’t believe me?” His voice was taking on a desperate tone to it, which was the exact opposite of what he needed right then. “I know a lot of people on this website like to forget it, but I’m a minor, I don’t do things like that, no sirree, ma’am!” He pointed behind her at where they came from. “If anything, you should be concerned about _them_ , because _they’re_ the one imagining gross stuff about me and—!”

“ _Yakko_.”

His ensuing rant died on his tongue. 

Mai softened after a few moments. Softly, she said, “They saw you hiding food in your trunk.” 

Which—yeah, he figured that. He was just hoping his rambling would annoy her enough that she’d give up trying to talk to him about it. Unfortunate that she was patient enough to deal with him. Unfortunate that Yakko respected and ~~loved~~ cared for her too much to treat her like a _special friend_.

Yakko pursed his lips together, trying to figure out a way to explain or get out of trouble or convince her to let him _keep_ it, because he _needed_ it, without going into the specifics of exactly _why_ he needed it, because he didn’t know. He just _did_ , and he was positive no one would understand that, even if it’s her. 

The only thing he could settle on was:

“I’m sorry.”

Mai blinked, looking confused. “What—? No, it’s—”

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Yakko repeated, before letting his motormouth take over. “I dunno why I did it but my head kept telling me I needed the food even though we have plenty here and it just kept yelling and yelling at me so I started to take some and then it made me feel better and made me eat better so I just kept taking because that way I felt normal again and I’m sorry for lying and hiding and sneaking but I just need it in case something happens and—” He took a deep breath in, feeling strangely lightheaded.

“No, no, no, it’s _okay_ , Yakko,” Mai soothed. “C’mon, take in deep breaths, just like I taught you.” They worked through a few breathing exercises until Yakko’s heart stopped racing in his chest. Once it did, he looked down at the ground between them, embarrassed. Mai continued, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Yakko.”

“I didn’t?” He glanced up and caught her smiling gently at him.

She shook her head. “No, you didn’t. Everything is okay. You’re _not_ in trouble, alright?”

Yakko hesitated, but nodded.

“Can we continue talking about your stash?” she asked.

Yakko nodded. Even if his brain was yelling about how she would take his food for herself, he knew she wouldn’t. Mai would never do anything to hurt him.

“Can you explain again why you feel you need it? I didn’t quite hear before.”

He shifted awkwardly on his feet, looking away. “I dunno. My head just keeps telling me I need it. That somethin’s gonna happen and when it does I won’ have food and so I need to stock up. Just in case.”

“I see,” Mai said. Her voice went quiet. “Is this… because of what _he_ did before you were brought here?”

Yakko gave a little half shrug, looking away from her. He picked at the tips of his gloves. “I dunno. I haven' though' about it. I jus’... don’ wanna hurt.” His eyes shifted from the floor to hers, trying to gauge her reaction, if she believed that or if she’d pry deeper.

Mai nodded, her lips pursed. She took in a deep breath and let it out, before smiling. “Alright. You did good telling me, Yakko.” He relaxed, just now realizing he’d been coiled tight as a spring.

“So I can keep it?” he asked, hopeful.

“I don’t see why not,” she said. “If it makes you feel better, then I don’t see any problem with it.”

“Thank you,” he said. His head kept trying to convince him she was lying, but he pushed those fears aside. He trusted Mai.

“Hey, if you don’t mind me asking,” she started. “What kinda stuff have you been storing?”

“Oh, um…” He didn’t know if he minded or not. His anxiety flared and he answered vaguely, “I dunno, just anything I can grab, really…”

“Like fruits and stuff?”

He nodded.

“Okay.” She dropped her hands from his shoulders and grabbed his hands, holding them up between them. “What would you say to getting some things a little less likely to rot within a week? So that your stash stays full?”

He gaped at her for a moment. “Uh—r… really?”

She smiled again and nodded. “Yes! I wanna help you. Plus, I’m sure it’s real gross trying to get rotting fruit out of your trunk.”

It was. “I—yeah! I’d love to!” His whole face lit up.

“Great!” she said, standing up. “Let me tell Auntie and Gracie—” The other two matrons, “—and then we can get going then.”

He nodded, a giddy feeling rushing through him. He bounced on the balls of his feet as he watched her go to the matrons' bedroom and come back a minute later, and continued bouncing as they went to the common area.

Mai held his hand as they walked up to the door. One of the two men that always stood guard there stopped them with his hand. “Where are you going with him?” Yakko glared back when the man gestured to him, the giddy excitement dulling as he and Mai faced their first obstacle.

“Out,” Mai said dismissively.

“We need to know _specifically_ —”

“The _market_ ,” Mai specified while rolling her eyes. “We’re just going shopping, is that so bad?”

“He’s not allowed to leave unless—”

“It’s just shopping!” Mai interrupted again. “Really, is this so difficult? He’s _seven_ , for Christ’s sake, it’s not like there’s much damage he can do.”

Yakko resented that. He was an agent of chaos and destruction! Who cared if he was barely four foot tall?

The man glanced at him again, so Yakko, the self proclaimed chaos agent, put on the cutest, most irresistible puppy eyes he could muster. He even formed a halo over his head and clasped his hands under his chin, smiling brightly, to cement his Absolutely-Harmless act.

"See?" Mai said, gesturing to him and smiling smugly. "Angelic, really."

The man sighed. “Fine, fine, you’re free to go.” He waved them off. “Just don’t dilly dally.”

“Of course, sir,” Mai responded with a little sarcastic dip of her head. The two of them walked past the guards and out the door. Before the door fully closed behind them, Yakko turned around and stuck out his tongue while flapping his hands by the sides of his head. He was facing forward again, hand clasped in Mai’s, seconds later. His bright smile returned, now genuine, as he quietly laughed to himself. He could see Mai had an amused smile on her face as well, which helped his giddiness return.

The trip to the market went on for over an hour. Mai allowed Yakko to run around to the different stands and carts and pick out all the non-perishable and long-lasting food he wanted. He’d been outside the orphanage before, but he was on a pretty strict stay-at-home policy. (He wasn't even allowed to go to school with the other kids yet; he was told he needed to "earn trust" or whatever). Which meant that being given the freedom to explore the marketplace was a real treat for him.

Mai trailed after him as he went about grabbing things that looked good and told him if they would last or not. She also directed him towards some of the food that didn’t _look_ as appetizing, but held up against the sands of time and actually tasted alright.

Yakko had been too caught up in his exploring and giddiness to really notice, but Mai looked the most relaxed watching him bounce all over the place as she had in months. At one point, after she’d bought a sizable bag of honeyed oats and watched Yakko race to the next stand, the salesman chuckled a little and said, “Your son is quite the energetic one, ain’t he?”

The word caught her off guard and a denial was on the tip of her tongue, but really, what was the harm? She thought of all the kids at the orphanage as hers, even if they were adopted, so it was basically true. She smiled at the thought, and nodded, staring fondly as Yakko ran about. “Yeah, he is.”

“You adopt him?” he asked, as if it weren’t obvious. She was human, and he was a toon.

She chuckled a little and winked. “Something like that. Have a good day, sir.”

“You too, miss!”

Soon after that, Yakko and Mai had accumulated a sizable loot. Yakko was practically vibrating with excitement, his tail wagging and his body bouncing. His face hurt, he was smiling so much.

Mai, too, was feeling particularly good. Even if it was horrible that Yakko felt he needed to store food away _just in case_ he was starved again, she’s glad she could help ease that ache by making his stash long-lasting. And Yakko seemed so incredibly happy, the happiest she’s ever seen him. Maybe after this, he’d trust her with more of the things that bothered or upset him. She just wanted him to find happiness again.

Mai stopped Yakko before he could get too far from their last stop. “Hey, Yakky, one last place, then we’ll go back, okay?”

He looked up at her, confused. “What else do we need to get?” he asked.

She smiled. “Well, I was thinking that you could use a better place to store all this food, yeah?” She gestured toward the store she’d stopped in front of.

He turned to where she pointed and gasped. _Tahlia’s Weavery_ , it said. On the windows, there were graphics of rugs, bags, and, most importantly, _baskets_.

He spun back to her with stars in his eyes. He started up his bouncing again, his bags swaying in his arms. “You really mean it?!”

Mai giggled at his enthusiasm. “Of course! C’mon, go pick out a good one!”

He gave a frankly adorable giggle and burst into the store. “ _Hellooooo Tahlia!_ ”

“What the—!”

Mai laughed harder and followed her ward inside, ready to reel him in so he didn't terrorize the shop owner _too_ much.

As they walked down the street back to the orphanage, Yakko clung to his new basket tightly. The wicker basket was nearly the full length of his torso and a little wider. It was woven with two slightly different colored woods, one light and the other a few shades darker. It had a matching lid with a flap that connected to a key lock—something that had been particularly exciting to Yakko. This way, even if other people knew where his stash was, they wouldn’t be able to get into it without the key that Yakko was going to keep on his person until he died.

The weaver, Tahlia, had asked if he wanted any accessories to make it more personal, and whenever she mentioned the different colors of cloth and ribbon she had, Yakko had turned to Mai, looking shy and kind of vulnerable. “Can I?” he’d asked, and really, what was Mai to do?

He’d chosen a pretty lavender ribbon to be tied in a flower bow and a matching cloth liner for the inside. When Mai asked him about it he’d just smiled sadly and said it reminded him of something he missed.

Yakko made a beeline for the beds-room whenever they made it back, ignoring the curious calls from the other kids, with Mai following behind. Immediately, he opened his trunk and threw his rarely-used extra clothes to the side to get to his stash. The fruits were in varying stages of rot and the bread was either moldy or stale. It… wasn’t pretty. 

Together, Yakko and Mai cleaned up the mess and started packing away the fresh, non-perishable foods into his new basket. They laid everything together like a puzzle and once everything was packed away, Yakko closed the lid and locked it. Both he and Mai worked together to lift the basket up and into his trunk, where it sat perfectly on one side. He stuffed his other clothes haphazardly into the rest of his trunk and closed the lid.

He stared at it for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before he looked up at Mai. He opened his mouth, but hesitated. Mai waited patiently for his thoughts, a soft smile on her face.

He closed his mouth and bit his lip for a second, before seemingly gathering his thoughts. “Um…” he started. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, and it really means a lot.”

Mai hummed. “Of course, Yakko. Anything that makes you feel more comfortable.” She lifted her hand and gently pet him between his ears. He closed his eyes and leaned up into her hand. A soft rumble emanated from his throat as his foot started to thump against the floor. She bit her lip to stop a giggle from escaping her. Even if his sister was supposed to be the cute one, Yakko definitely had his moments.

“Alright!” she said, standing up. Yakko opened his eyes and looked up at her. “That trip sure made me hungry; what do you say if we went down and got some lunch?”

His face brightened and he jumped up. “Hooray!” He then ran to the door, chanting “Food! Food!”

Mai giggled at his antics and followed him over. He raced down the stairs. Mai was about to join him when she paused and glanced back towards his trunk, at the other side of the room. She let her smile fall as she thought about what it meant, him needing that stash of food so he didn’t worry. Every day, she wondered how someone could be so cruel as to deprive a six-year-old, let alone a four- and two-year-old, of food for so long. She didn’t know how someone could live with themself after doing that.

For the thousandth time, Mai wished she could somehow be alone with Salazar for even a minute. She’d make him wish he never invaded Warnerstock, never tore those precious kids away from each other, never even _looked_ in their direction.

But until that happened (and _oh_ , she dreamed of it), she would have to be content with picking up the pieces of the eldest that Salazar was so careless and harmful towards. _A_ **_muzzle_** _, I can’t fucking_ ** _believe_** _—_

“Mai?” 

She was jolted from her murderous thoughts at Yakko’s call. She turned to him, at the bottom of the stairs, and smiled. “Sorry, hon! Got distracted.”

Mai closed the door to the beds-room, hoping and praying that she’d be enough to heal him.

#### Wakko

Heloise Nerz escorted Marge into Dr. Scratchansniff’s appointment room. The doctor looked up as the door opened and he smiled at both women. “Ah, thank you, Heloise. It is good to see you, Miss Margaret.”

She nodded in greeting as she sat down on the therapy couch. Dr. Scratchansniff set aside his clipboard and clasped his hands on his crossed knees. “What can I do for you today?”

“I’ll get straight to the point,” Marge said. “We think there’s something wrong with Wakko.”

“Wakko?” The doctor lifted his hand and placed it against his chin in thought. “That is the, ah… new resident that was moved here a couple months ago, _ja_?”

Marge nodded. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“Well, what seems to be the problem?”

She sighed. “We don’t know _exactly_ what’s wrong, but… We, my girls and I, have been noticing some strange things he does.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “Strange how?”

“Just… Well, you know he’s a toon, yeah?” Scratchansniff nodded. “Well, sometimes, at random parts of the day, we’ll notice him suddenly… freeze or something, with a look on his face like he’s realizing something. Then, the next moment, he’ll call for someone’s attention and pull one of his funny gags, like pulling out a pie and slamming it into his face, or eating a banana he’d summoned and throwing the peel for the mime to slip on. Among other things.” Marge rubbed the back of her neck, looking worried. “He’s back to normal after that, but I just can’t shake the feeling that somethin’s wrong. He looks… so scared for that moment whenever he realizes whatever he’s realizing.”

Scratchansniff hummed thoughtfully. “I’m inclined to agree with you, but as of right now, I’ll only be able to make guesses based on what you’ve told me.” He thought a bit longer. Marge’s leg started to bounce anxiously as the minutes went on. 

Finally, he began, “... You said he would do the funny, ha-ha gags, yes?” Marge nodded. “And you said they involved a pie and a banana, among other things.” Again, Marge nodded. “What are these ‘other things’?”

“Well, sometimes he’d summon some baguettes to hit something, like a bat. One time he summoned a huge thing of jello that he and the other kids bounced on for a little, though that didn’t last long since he kept eating their trampoline.” She laughed a little. “One time it happened right before Abby left for a trip to the city, and he said that it was “dangerous to go alone” and that she should “take this,” and he summoned an actual cake with a top that opened to reveal a little mini mallet that he said she could use to defend herself. He ate the cake right after.” Marge shook her head. “There are others, but what are you thinking?”

“So after showing that fear or panic, he immediately does a joke involving physical food that he eats afterwards?” Scratchansniff confirmed and Marge nodded slowly, a thoughtful look in her eye. He could tell she was about to come to the realization he was about to tell her. “Well, I think it’s probably safe to say that Wakko has a problem with food, or rather, the lack thereof.”

“But—we _have_ food at the orphanage,” Marge protested. “We’ve never stopped him from eating ever, and the kids are allowed snacks during the day. Why would he be scared of not having food?"

“Well…” Scratchansniff started hesitantly. “I don’t want to imply anything, but… he wasn’t _always_ at your orphanage, was he?”

It took her a second. “Are you implying you think his parents kept food from him?” She looked outraged, though it wasn’t clear if it was about the idea of Wakko’s parents abusing him or if it was about Scratchansniff implying the old king and queen would do such a thing. Maybe it was both.

“ _Nein_ , _nein_ , of course not!” the doctor corrected. He had adored the king and queen just as much as any other Warnerstock citizen did. He’d even _known_ William before he went to the castle to be a knight. He would’ve never. “But, for a little while, he wasn’t _with_ the queen, was he?”

Marge’s mouth dropped open for a moment, understanding what he was saying. It quickly morphed into rage. “That _slimy, cowardly little_ —!”

Scratchansniff quickly hushed her. “I know it is hard to do so, but you must keep quiet! You can’t say such things.”

Marge took in a calming breath and breathed it out. “You’re right, you’re right.” She sighed and dragged her hand down her face. She looked the doctor in the eye. “Alright then. What do we do?”

“Well,” the doctor began. “I may have a _few_ ideas.”

—

1\. Don’t limit food during mealtimes; make sure he knows there is plenty to eat

—

Wakko didn’t know why, but he was always afraid one of his guardians would cut him off during breakfast or lunch or dinner. ~~Well. He _did_ know why. He just didn’t want to think about it.~~

He ate more than any of the other kids. It didn’t make him self-conscious, really, more than it made him fearful they’d decide he ate too much in comparison and wouldn’t let him have seconds or thirds. 

It’s not like he was in any real danger of going hungry again, technically. He had his gag bag and as long as he was funny about it, he could summon any type of food he wanted. He could even eat non-food things too! So even if they _did_ cut him off, he’d still be able to eat. There wasn’t any reason to be afraid.

And yet…

It was dinnertime. Rather, the _end_ of dinnertime, technically. Wakko was polishing off his second plate while everyone else was finishing their first. And it was one of those days where Wakko needed another.

He felt something constrict in his chest as he looked to Abigail, the one he’d latched onto like a puppy, and asked, “Can I have s’more?” 

There was a split second between Wakko’s question and Abigail’s response that always made his heart squeeze. He always expected her to say no, to tell him that that was all he could have for the day, and that he should _deal with it_.

But of course, that didn’t happen. Abigail smiled at him and nodded, standing up to grab his plate. “‘Course, Wakko. You can have as much as you like.”

Wakko relaxed and smiled back, a dopey thing with his tongue hanging out. Behind him his tail wagged.

As Abigail went to fill up his plate again, Marge turned to Wakko and firmly, but gently, said, “I just wanna let you know that you’ll always be able to have as many plates as you need, alright?” Wakko blinked, feeling a little confused. Marge continued, “We have plenty here and you won’t ever go hungry as long as we can help it.”

Beside her, Mel nodded.

Wakko felt strangely… seen. Abigail came back and set his plate back in front of him. She leaned one hand against the table, bending a little so she was in his vision. Her hand came up and gently landed on his shoulder. “Really, Wakko,” she affirmed with a smile. Her eyes glanced toward the few other kids there. “And all of you, too. We have food to spare. Never think we won’t.”

“Okay,” Wakko said quietly as the other kids nodded. Abigail smiled at him again and gently rubbed his shoulder, before going back to her spot.

Wakko ate his third plate a little shyly, but… peacefully. It didn’t take all his uncertainty away, but maybe one day it would.

—

2\. Get him to understand that hunger is nothing to fear

—

_“This will probably be the hardest one to try and accomplish,” Scratchansniff said. “Hunger is likely the main thing he is afraid of. He’s probably not even allowing himself to be properly hungry, just eating whenever he feels he needs to. You’ll need to convince him that being a little hungry will not kill him.”_

“That’s what he said, but…” Marge said the night she returned from Scratchansniff’s office, relaying the information she’d gathered to her girls. “I’m not entirely sure how we’re supposed to go about this.”

Mel nodded. “When he has a whole bag essentially full of goodies for him to eat at his leisure whenever he feels he needs to, it’ll be hard to convince him to stick to a regular schedule.”

“Especially if he’s scared of being hungry,” Abigail added. “He might clam up and think we’re trying to torture him like… uh, _he_ did.”

They all fell into a contemplative silence.

“Wait,” Mel began a few minutes later. “It’s the hunger that scares him right? Well, what if we show him hunger can be good sometimes?”

“How do you mean?” Marge asked.

“Like—you know if you haven’t eaten for a long time, and then you finally get your meal, and it tastes like the best thing ever?” Mel proposed. The other two nodded. “Well, what if we were really exaggerated about that? Like, every time before meals, we talk about how hungry we are and then during the meals, we talk about how good everything tastes now that we’re eating it.”

“I suppose that could work,” Abigail mused. “Though, admittedly, Wakko has shown he’s not always capable of making connections like that. He’s quite literal; he might not connect that hunger being good at times for _us_ is also sometimes good for _him_.”

Mel deflated a little. “Ah… I guess you’re right.”

“So the direct approach then?” Marge surmised. Mel and Abby gave her a shrug and a nod. “Well, I guess that leads to Scratchy’s next point.”

—

3\. Talk to him

—

Marge just stared at Scratchansniff after he said that. After a moment, she said, “Shouldn’t that be step one?”

“These are not so much _steps_ as pieces of loosely connected advice,” Scratchansniff explained, looking a little uppity in Marge’s humble opinion.

“You were numbering them.”

“For greater ease of reading!” he snapped back, before calming himself down. “Ahem. Anyway, I think it is very important one of you (or all three, but you wouldn’t want to crowd the boy) try to talk to him, to get his side of this story. You have only been observing his behavior without real context as to what is going on inside his head, and I am only working off of what you have told me.” He looked at her pointedly. “It would be very unfortunate if some misunderstandings were to happen when we are only trying to right a wrong. You wouldn’t want him to lump you three into the same group as _you know who_ , would you?”

“Of course not,” Marge bit back.

“Wonderful.” Scratchansniff leaned back in his chair and the mood of the room immediately shifted lighter. “Then, I will also recommend some other tips, though do keep in mind I am not an expert in children. Most of my experience comes from taking in Heloise when she was young, but not all children are alike.”

“Feel that,” Marge agreed. She paused, then quietly said, “Hey… thanks.”

“Do not mention it, Miss Margaret,” Scratchansniff waved her off. “I want what is best for the kidses just as much as you do. Even if they do cause a lot of racket and will have me bald before the end of the year.”

Marge snorted. “Don’t think that’s their fault, doc. One of us is pushing sixty, and it ain’t me.”

“Oh, ha-ha, hilarious,” Scratchansniff sarcastically replied. “I see Wakko’s funny jokeses have been rubbing off on you.”

“You think that one’s funny, just wait till ya hear the ones I’ll say after the camera fades to black,” Marge snarked. “Not exactly suitable for the T rating we’re set on.”

“Oh, spare me,” the doctor groaned and Marge’s laugh echoed through the scene shift.

—

Wakko was sitting outside the orphanage, looking up at the stars, the night that, unbeknownst to him, Marge, Mel, and Abigail came up with their game plan to help him overcome his fear.

He was out for a long time when he heard the door open a few feet away. He glanced over and saw Abigail smiling at him as she went to his side and sat down. He returned his eyes to the sky.

“Beautiful night, huh?” Abby commented, and Wakko nodded.

“Stars’re pretty,” he mumbled, and she nodded too.

Silence lapsed between them for a while. They just enjoyed the cool evening breeze and the twinkling stars above.

“You know, Wakko,” Abigail suddenly said. “Recently, I’ve been noticing some things. About you.”

“Hm?” Wakko turned to her, a genuinely innocent look in his eyes.

“Sometimes, you’ll suddenly freeze at random times in the day. And afterwards, you grab a snack for your gag bag and are back to normal. My point is…” She finally turned to him, and Wakko saw concern in her eyes. “Well, it’s a little worrying. What is… I mean, are you…?”

“I just get hungry,” Wakko said. “That’s just me realizing I’m hungry.”

“When you get hungry, you freeze and bristle?” Abigail asked, the concern still present for some reason. “Why?”

“Because it’s scary?” Wakko didn’t understand why she sounded so worried. “I don’t like being hungry.”

“Okay.” Abby took a small breath in and let it out. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand. Why is it scary being hungry?”

The cell flashed in his mind and he flinched a little. He could feel something closing around his throat. “B-Because when I’m too hungry, my body gives up.”

“What?”

“I—They—” Wakko swallowed hard and looked away, tugging on one of his ears. “They locked us up back home a-and they didn’t, um… give us food, and I couldn’t use my gag bag b’cause nothin’ was funny ‘nd… ‘nd one time, I got so hungry I passed out ‘nd ‘parently Yakko couldn’t wake me up at all until they forced food down m’throat. So bein’ hungry is scary ‘cause I don’ wanna pass out like that again.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. When he glanced at her, her eyes were wet. “I didn’t—I’m sorry I made you retell that.”

He gave a little half-shrug, still tugging on his ear.

“Do you—hm.” Abigail glanced away, looking thoughtful and worried. A few moments later, she turned back to him and said, “Wakko, I need you to know that being hungry and being… starved… are two very different things.”

Wakko frowned in confusion, because he knew that. _Hungry_ and _starved_ are different words after all. He didn’t get what she was saying, and said as much.

“No, I mean—” Abby let out a little breath, a ghost of an embarrassed smile on her lips. “ _He’s only four, Abby, c’mon_.” One day they’d learn about his ears. One day. “Okay. You know what hungry is, yes?”

Wakko nodded. “The tummy rumblies, when you don’ have food in you anymore.”

“Yes,” Abigail agreed. “Now, there’s also this word called _starving_. Which is similar, but much more… intense.”

Wakko tilted his head a little as he processed. 

Abby hesitated, but soon continued her explanation, “ _Starving_ is when you are… not given food for a while. It’s… what happened to you and your siblings, before.”

Oh.

And…?

“Um,” Wakko started, feeling mildly uncomfortable to still be talking about this. “Okay…? What’s… I mean, why…?”

“What I mean is,” Abby continued, “is that being _hungry_ and _starving_ are two different things. Your body gave up on you because it was _starving_. It might have felt similar to being hungry, in the sense that it gave you the tummy rumblies, but there’s a distinct difference.”

Wakko nodded slowly, understanding the difference but not getting what the point of this talk was.

“You still look confused, bud,” Abby prompted gently.

Wakko rubbed the back of his head. “I get the dif’rence, but… I dunno why you’re tellin’ me?”

“I’m explaining this to you because…” Abigail sighed. “Well, it’s not healthy to be afraid of being hungry. It's an important function of our bodies. And I thought telling you the difference between normal, healthy hunger and what happened before might help you not be scared anymore.” She paused. “Did it… work?”

Wakko frowned and thought about it. Was he still scared…? If he thought about that time, he could feel himself clamming up, but Abby said that was the part he _should_ be afraid of; the starving part. And it was true, he hadn’t felt _nearly_ as hungry since he got here. There was always food and since the situation was changed, he could be funny and have his snacks. So was he…?

Conveniently, it was right then that Wakko felt his stomach gently gurgle.

And, unsurprisingly, he panicked.

Wakko whipped his head back to Abby as his hand reached behind him to his hammerspace, which held his gag bag, and spat out, “Heylookatthis!” Then, he slammed a banana cream pie into his face.

Immediately, he used his tongue to lick his head clean. Afterward, he tossed the pie tin, still lined with banana cream filling, into his mouth and swallowed it whole.

He sat back, feeling satisfied as his heart calmed down and his fur settled. He gently patted his distended stomach and turned to Abby with a goofy, tongue-out smile.

He felt the contentment freeze inside him as he saw Abby looking at him with absolute heartbreak. 

Wakko blinked, feeling confused, then instantly remembered their whole conversation just now. Then he felt a little embarrassed, and frustrated. If there was a difference between what he just felt and what he went through before, then why is he still afraid? 

“Sorry…” Wakko mumbled, looking at his feet.

Abby shook her head in his peripheral. “No, don’t be sorry. You can’t help your fear. It was silly to think a simple explanation would fix everything.”

“You’re not mad?” he asked, glancing up at her.

She shook her head again. “No, of course not. You can’t control this.” She gave him a sad smile. “I’m just sad I can’t help you immediately.”

Wakko nodded a little and went back to looking at his feet. He saw Abby scootch a little closer and felt her arm wrap around him, gently bringing him to lean against her side. Her hand rubbed up and down his upper arm.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll help you get through this. You’ll beat this fear some day and it’ll be rad,” she said.

“Really?” he asked shyly, because he was only just now thinking of it as something to _beat_ and it seemed a little overwhelming, and he felt her nod firmly.

“Really,” she repeated. “Marge, Mel, and I won’t stop until you feel happy, healthy, and safe here. You’re not alone in this.”

Wakko grinned, humming in agreement, and nuzzled closer to her side. 

She pulled away a little a moment later and when he looked up at her, she asked, “Hey. How’s about a real hug?” and held out her arms.

Wakko smiled a little and leapt into her arms. She wrapped her arms all around him and squeezed him tight like she usually did, which never failed to make him feel safe and secure.

~~It reminded him a little of… well. Never mind.~~

Once they let go, Wakko still fully in her lap, Abigail smiled at him. “You give such good hugs, you know that?”

Wakko beamed at her, eyes closed and tongue hanging out. Abby giggled and gently booped her nose against his ~~, which reminded him of… well. Never mind~~. “Alright, sweetie, I think it’s about time we got you into bed, yeah?”

“Noooo,” Wakko complained. “I don’ wanna! I’m not even—” Which of course, was when a yawn suddenly overtook him. “—tired yet!” he finished and Abigail laughed.

“Sure you aren’t, ya little monster. C’mon.” She wrapped an arm under him and heaved the two of them up, supporting his back with her other hand. He immediately leaned into her, resting his chin on her shoulder. His eyes drooped as she walked them inside and the gentle rocking of their movement lulled him into that place between sleep and wakefulness.

He was knocked out of it a little when Abigail gently set him in his bed and tucked him in, but only for a moment. His eyes fluttered to stay awake as Abby smiled down at him and gently laid a kiss against his forehead. “G’night, Wakko…” 

Wakko hummed a little. “... G’nigh’...”

He was asleep before she left the room.

#### Dot

So, the thing about Dot was that she was a rather picky eater.

She only liked sweet things, or things with a certain texture. If something was too globby and jello-like, she’d nearly spew, and if things were in any way bitter, its next destination was probably the ground. 

Desserts, carrots, fruits; those types of things. If her baby food was not to her liking in any way, she’d pitch a fit.

At least… before, she would’ve. Being starved and only being able to eat food given _to_ you, not picked out _for_ you really changed one’s mind on the subject.

So she ate whatever was put in front of her. She scowled and pouted and whined and scrunched up her nose, but she ate it, because she never wanted to feel truly hungry again.

And that would’ve been the end of that, had she been in an orphanage like Wakko’s or even Yakko’s. But she wasn’t.

She was four at the time. She was quietly eating her plate of mashed potatoes, chicken, and roasted carrots. She was surrounded by the four other orphans and the two matrons, Leslie and Deb. The only sound was the clinking of silverware against their plates. The silence was getting to her, like it always did, because silence was so _loud_ and _buzzing_ , but she’d been there for a year and a half and knew the consequences of complaining about things “no one else” cared about.

~~Her brothers did. They heard the buzzing too. She thought there might have always been music playing, or at least white noise everywhere. At least until the sound became too much. Their parents cared about their comfort after all. That was the only thing that kept Dot from knowing that the way they treated her was wrong.~~

~~Probably~~...

She scraped the last of her potatoes carefully into her mouth, still getting used to holding a spoon. She looked up from concentrating on her plate and saw that everyone was close to getting done.

She frowned a little, because she still felt hungry. She’d never continued being hungry after she finished her plate before.

“Um,” she said, and it felt like the word echoed through the little room. Everyone turned to her, but she took it in stride. Before she spoke again, she felt a reference come to mind, and the corner of her mouth tipped up a little. She grabbed her plate and held it out to Deb, frowning sadly and giving her puppy-dog eyes before saying, “Please, ma’am? Can I please have some more?”

“More?” Deb answered, and Dot’s mouth turned up again, because Deb was continuing her reference! That’d never happened before! Now they’d laugh and Deb would fill her plate with more potatoes or carrots and Dot would go to bed happy ~~for once~~ and full and— “Now Angelina, what you had is what you get! You don’t wanna be greedy, do you?”

Dot stilled, barely keeping her nose from scrunching up at the sound of her full name that they _still_ insisted on using and focused instead on the confusion filling her. “But I’m still hungry—”

“Oh, you’re just bored, sweetie,” Leslie cut in while she stood, plate and cutlery in hand. “Why don’t you go do some’a those knowledge puzzles or whatever? That’ll make you stop being hungry.”

“I think eating more will make me less hungry,” Dot countered and the eldest kid there, a fourteen-year-old boy named Marin snorted.

“Angelina!” Deb scolded while Leslie shot Marin a warning look. “What did we say about the talking back!”

“Isn’t that how talking works?” Dot asked genuinely, because she was pretty sure two people couldn’t talk if one didn’t talk back to the other, and she really couldn’t remember if they’d said anything about _talking back_ before anyway.

Deb laughed a little, but it was distinctly a Not Good Laugh. The other kids tensed and looked resolutely at their plates, and Dot didn’t know why, but her fur was bristling. “For someone so young,” Deb started, “you’ve sure got a mouth on you. If you want to be such a smart aleck, why don’t you do so from your room?”

“I’m not tired,” Dot said petulantly, truly not understanding what was happening. “I’m _hungry_.”

“Well, _Hungry_ , I’m _angry_ , and I don’t want to see your pretty little flower until tomorrow morning, got it?” Deb pointed toward the door.

Dot opened her mouth again to respond, when she was startled quiet by the sound of Marin standing up. “I’ll make sure she gets to bed, Miss Deb,” he said before picking Dot up from under the armpits and setting the younger on his hip.

“Fine,” Deb responded, talking over Dot’s attempted protest. “Make sure you come back and clean up your dishes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Marin said and rushed out of the dining room.

Dot squirmed in Marin’s grip. “Hey! Lemme go! I’m not tired, I don’ wanna go to bed!”

“You don’t have a choice, Dot,” Marin said, tightening his grip on Dot. “You know that.”

“I _don’t_ , actu’lly,” Dot snarked back.

“Well, you should.” They were upstairs now and Marin was walking to Dot’s bed. “You shouldn’t sass them like that, they don’t like being out of control of a conversation.”

“I was _just_ hungry,” Dot huffed as Marin set her on the edge of the bed. Immediately she grabbed her magenta blanket and pulled it over her lap. “What’s so wrong with that?”

“Nothing, really,” Marin sighed. “They probably think you just want to waste food. That you’d fill your plate only to eat just a little of it and they’d have to throw the rest away.”

“Why would I waste food?” she asked, feeling strangely vulnerable as she did. “I’d never do that.”

Marin shrugged. “They’re weird, I don’t get it either. Sometimes adults just think they know better than us kids.”

“That’s stupid,” Dot pouted and Marin laughed, a snorting, huffy thing.

“Yeah. You’re right about that.”

They were quiet for a little while, and after that while, Dot rubbed her stomach. “... I’m still hungry,” she mumbled.

“... Hey,” Marin said quietly, like he didn’t want to get caught. “If you keep quiet about it, I can try and grab you somethin’ later?”

Her head shot up and she gaped at her fellow orphan. “Really?” she asked, genuinely surprised.

Marin’s mouth quirked up a little. “Yeah, ‘course. I dunno when it’ll be, and it’ll probably just be an apple or something, but it’ll be better than nothing.”

“Thank you…” Dot whispered, gripping her blanket tightly. It was genuinely shocking that he offered to help. She… thought he and the others didn’t like her. Which was fine, she didn't need their approval to be as cute and wonderful as she was, but… well, it made for a lonely experience.

“‘Course, babe,” Marin responded and stood up. He gently pat Dot’s head a few times before he started walking towards the door. “Try to rest, ya hear?”

“Don’ tell me what t’do!” Dot said back, half-joking. Marin laughed and left, leaving Dot alone in the empty bedroom.

Dot sat there, staring at the door, for a few moments before huffing out a little breath and flopping onto her bed, facing the opposite direction. She curled her blanket around her. It was just big enough now to lay over her body. Her little onesie was also starting to get too small. Soon, they’d probably make her get rid of it…

She shook her head to clear her thoughts away and brought the blanket up to her face again. It had been forcefully cleaned almost immediately after she got here, something that had made her go absolutely ballistic at the time, so it didn’t smell like Yakko anymore, but if she closed her eyes, sometimes she could imagine that it still did.

She did so now, and buried her face in it. She inhaled clean fabric and soap, but at the back of the scent she could barely smell it. _Yakko…_

She wondered how he was. She wondered how… V-, uh… what was… _it rhymed with Yakko, c’mon…_ Wakko! Wakko, his name was Wakko! _Wakko, Wakko, Wakko._ She wondered how _Wakko_ was. She hoped they were both happy wherever they were. She hoped their “new homes” were better than this one.

She hoped they missed her as much as she missed them.

—

(She didn’t want to think about how terrifying that was, stumbling on Wakko’s name. It was just a slip-up, she had to believe that. She wasn’t… _forgetting_ them. She couldn’t. No way, no how.

She refused.

… And if she told herself the story a few times over, it wasn’t to cement it in her memory, it was just because she was bored. Nothing more.)

—

Marin pulled through.

When it was bedtime about an hour later for the other kids, and they all filed in, looking exhausted and miserable as always, Marin zipped over to Dot’s bed and slipped a banana under the covers. He winked, before quickly going to his own bed, making it just in time for Leslie to tell them lights out. She seemed none the wiser to the sneaking.

Once Leslie closed the door behind her as she left, Dot grabbed her gift and slowly opened it, still lying down and half-hiding it under the blanket. She ate her banana slowly, watchful of any prying eyes and attentive to any possible surprise visits from their guardians.

No one came, and Dot finished her snack in peace.

She wished she could have more, but it would tide her over until morning. She didn’t know what to do about the peel though… 

She glanced at her trunk at the end of the bed, but quickly discarded the idea. She wasn’t strong nor tall enough to lift the trunk by herself.

She supposed she could hide it under the bed, and then maybe the monster under it would eat the peel! And if they didn’t accept her offering, she could sneak it out in the morning. She could try using her hammerspace again to sneak it out, see if it’ll actually work for her.

In (almost) any case, she’d get it out in the morning.

Dot carefully leaned over the side of her bed and tossed the banana peel to the floor near the center of her bed. Then she quickly pulled herself up so the monster wouldn’t think _she_ was part of the offering and curled up under her blanket and the bed’s covers, heart pounding with how close she came to being monster chow.

She grinned a little to herself, proud of her brave act just now, and snuggled into her pillow. Soon after, she fell asleep, for once without another grieving thought about her brothers.

—

It didn’t get better. As the next few weeks went on, Dot found that she was more often than not unsatisfied whenever she finished her plate. She complained about it in the beginning, hoping that eventually Leslie or Deb would believe her and let her get seconds, but they never did. Sometimes, when she complained during lunchtime, they’d even send her to the bedroom without dinner.

Each time, when he was there, Marin would sneak her a snack. At first he asked if she wanted him to do so, but eventually it just became a routine: he’d give her a little wink and then sneak off, and later she’d secretly eat whatever morsel he’d grabbed her.

It wasn’t a perfect system. Marin wasn’t always able to grab her food, and he wasn’t always there when her meals were lacking (along with the other kids, he went to school, and Dot was stuck in the orphanage most days). But it helped.

Marin, specifically, helped. She didn’t know what she’d do without him.

She told him as such one weekend, when they were alone in their shared bedroom, after he sneaked her an apple and was reading to her as a cover (and because she liked when he read to her).

“What? No,” Marin denied. “I’m not doing much, I’m just stealing food, you know? It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is to me,” Dot insisted. “It really means a lot.”

“... Okay,” he said. There was a pause, and then he grinned. “One of these days I’ll teach you to do it, too. That way if I’m not here, you can do it yourself.”

Dot had stars in her eyes. “Really??” she asked.

“‘Course!” he laughed. “Want my cute fellow orphan to be able to feed herself when the horrid matrons from hell refuse to do so.”

Dot giggled. “I’d like that.”

“When you’re older, then,” Marin promised.

Dot cuddled closer and looked down at the book in his hands. It was all words and no pictures, but Marin was a good narrator; it was like he brought the words to life. “When I’m older,” she agreed.

### Clothes

#### Yakko

On some arbitrary morning some-odd years into his stay at Aunt May’s Children’s Orphanage, Yakko was dressing for the day like he normally did. He pulled one of the straps of his overalls over his shoulders to clasp them on the front, only to find he couldn’t, because it didn’t reach.

He frowned down at his chest at where the strap stopped short of the front. He tugged on it to see how far it would stretch, and it barely reached the point where he could slip the button through its slit. He could feel the back of his pants pulling up awkwardly, which also shifted his tail weirdly. With his face scrunching up, Yakko let his strap go and felt it fly back. He let the front of his overalls fold forward as well.

Guess he was going strapless today. Luckily, he’s a boy, so he wouldn't get dress-coded at school.

With a snicker to himself, he went on his way with the other kids down to breakfast.

And was stopped almost immediately before the kitchen by Mai.

“Whatcha wearin’ there, Sir Yaks-A-Lot?” Mai snickered a little as she caught his shoulder and pulled him from the crowd pouring into the kitchen. “What’s up with the whole painting-houses-on-a-hot-day-in-summer look?”

“Oh, you know,” he started with a shrug, playing along. “Just thought I’d try and raise some money for your acting lessons.”

“Cheeky,” she responded. “But seriously, what’s up?”

“My straps won’t button,” he said and demonstrated how tightly and awkwardly attempting to button his overalls was. 

Mai hummed a little. “Well, it looks like you’re due for some bigger clothes then, pal.”

“Do I have to?” Yakko asked, feeling a strange tightness in his chest at the prospect of wearing anything other than these pants.

He’s worn other things before, of course, but these were his favorite, his go-to. The thought of growing out of them, of needing to throw them out…

Well, it didn’t sit right.

“What, you don’t want clothes that fit?” Mai questioned.

“Well, no, but…” He looked down with a little pout. “These are my favorite…”

Mai paused before crouching to his level. He was tall enough now that when she did so, she had to tilt her head up to look him in the eye. “Well, tell me this: are any other part of them tight or uncomfy? Or just when you’re trying to strap ‘em up?”

“Just the straps,” Yakko answered. His overalls had always been baggy, because he’d never really liked constricting clothes. And even if it’d been four and some change years, his legs had never gotten that much more meat on them. The legs even still had some excess to them, even after his few growth spurts. He was a bit wider than when he was six, of course, but that just meant he didn’t need the straps to keep his pants from falling down anymore, hence why he thought it fine to wear them without.

“Then I have an easy fix! We can just turn them into regular pants.” She smiled. “Take off this top bit and hem it all neat and tidy, and presto! New pants.”

Yakko grinned widely. “Really?”

“‘Course!” Mai said. “I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t mean it. I can do that for you today while you’re at school? You’d have to wear something else for today.”

“That’s fine!” Yakko was bouncing a little in place, his tail wagging behind him. “I’ll go change right now and get ‘em to you!”

“Great.” Mai stood back up.

Yakko turned on his heel and was down and back in no time flat, changed into another pair of overalls his guardians had bought him before. He bounced slightly as he handed his older pair over to Mai.

“Great!” she said again. “I’ll be sure to get ‘em done by the end of the day, alright? Now go get some food.”

“Okay!” Yakko turned and began bouncing towards the kitchen again. “Thanks, mom!”

He froze in midair, his feet hanging a foot or so above the floor. Behind him, Mai stilled for a moment, before bringing her hand up to her mouth to hide her smile.

Yakko turned his head back, still frozen in midair, his eyes wide and nervous. “Um—I—”

It wasn’t that it was necessarily _bad_ to call her that, he’d seen and heard some of the younger kids call her and Auntie and Gracie mom all the time. But he was _ten_ , not four or three or two. He didn’t know if she would let him call her that when he was so old.

And… well, it was _super_ embarrassing.

Mai giggled a little and walked over to his hanging form. She gently pet between his ears and gave him a loving look. “Get some food, bud, you gotta get to school soon.”

He relaxed and let himself continue his animation until he was on the floor again. “Okay,” he said, much more shy now. But he had to ask: “You’re not… mad?”

“‘Course not, bud,” Mai said, and Yakko thought her eyes looked a little shiny as she somehow smiled even wider at him. “If you want to call me that, I don’t mind at all.”

“Okay… mom,” Yakko said again. He felt incredibly shy and giddy, his heart thumping hard in his chest. He also felt guilty ~~(how could he call her mom when she’s not his mom, he _has_ a mom, she’s just dead)~~, but he’d long since learned how to focus on the bright side.

Mai let out a delighted giggle and pushed him toward the kitchen. “Okay! Now go get some food, ya gremlin.”

Yakko nodded, allowing an ecstatic grin to stretch across his face, and did as she said, bouncing into the kitchen feeling lighter than air.

It was important to listen to your parents, after all.

#### Wakko

It took awhile for anyone to notice just how small Wakko’s sweater was getting because he quite literally never took it off (except for bathtimes (a near equally rare occurrence), which were _still_ a struggle because Wakko didn’t understand that his _wool sweater_ would shrink a lot quicker than he would grow out of it if he bathed in it—water made wool shrink, regardless of how fancy the material was made).

In any case, it was one of the rare cases where Wakko took his sweater off that told everyone it needed to be replaced. It was a struggle for him to pull his arms through its sleeves and, whenever he tried to put it back on, everyone noticed how tightly it was pulled over his belly, how it was constantly riding up no matter how many times he pulled it down.

Wakko, obviously, was very against not wearing his sweater.

“It’s _fine_ ,” he insisted. 

“We’re not saying you need to throw it away,” Marge tried to reason. “Just that you should try wearing the other clothes we’ve given you that actually fit. It can’t be comfortable to wear!”

“Well, it is!” he declared stubbornly, wrapping his arms around himself in a hug. It kind of looked like he was protecting the sweater from any possible grabbing.

Marge sighed and made eye contact with Abigail and Mel. They both gave her a little shrug. The eldest matron gave them a withering look before turning back to Wakko with a smile. “Okay, darling, okay. I’ll stop bothering you about your sweater.”

“Good!” Wakko declared. 

Abigail noticed how his hands bunched up the fabric with how tightly he held it, stretching the already-stretched and faded fabric further. She knew this was one of two things he had left from his time with his family, which was likely why he was being so stubborn about it (and luckily, his hat had already been ginormous on him when he came, and he still hadn’t fully grown into yet, so they didn’t have to worry about it just yet), but…

Well, it wasn’t like he could wear that forever. Who knew when he’d be allowed to leave Acme Falls to try and find his siblings, if he was able to at all. Salazar’s men were lenient enough with letting him be around the town and the forest, rightfully thinking that the six-year-old wouldn’t get very far if he attempted to search the country, but they were _very_ clear in what would happen if any of the matrons allowed Wakko to get out of the town’s jurisdiction.

(Abigail heard horrible stories from other towns and cities whenever she traveled to get the more higher-end supplies—people being hanged for speaking “rebelliously” or going against the many rules that Salazar’s men imposed on them. Acme Falls had yet to have any gallows set up, even though she knew everyone here despised _King_ Salazar, and the hope was that they’d never have to. They were a small town, where everyone knew everyone, even if it wasn’t a personal relationship. Seeing _anyone_ from Acme Falls swaying limply in the wind for everyone to see would be devastating.)

But what could they do then? It was possible Wakko would grow out of that stubbornness and realize he had to eventually let go of his sweater, but that… that didn’t seem right to Abigail.

Like she said, it was one of _two_ things he had from before Acme Falls. Nobody should be forced to give up childhood belongings until they themselves were ready to. It wasn’t Wakko’s fault his childhood belongings happened to be clothing.

So then what…?

An idea struck Abigail so suddenly she gasped. Mel turned to her questioningly and Abigail gently hit her arm many times, excitement suddenly coursing through her. 

It wasn’t guaranteed to work, but it was a possibility…!

Abigail quickly caught Marge’s attention as she watched Wakko walk away to go sit by the window, her brow creased. She was probably thinking the same thing Abigail was.

“Yes, Abby?” Marge said while turning towards her.

“I think I might have an idea to help Wakko.” In response, she got two raised eyebrows.

“Well, share with the class then!” Marge said, and Abigail grinned.

—

The finished product arrived a few days before Wakko’s seventh birthday. They wanted to give it to him immediately, because he was in desperate need of it, so Abigail went to wait in the empty children’s bedroom while Marge and Mel went and found him.

(They knew Abigail had to be the one to give it to him. He liked Abby the most and this present might not be received well. He’d, at the very least, understand and forgive them more easily if she was the messenger.)

Abigail sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at the wrapped package. She held it carefully in her hands, needing to consciously keep her fingers relaxed so she didn’t wrinkle its contents. She hoped he would like it. She hoped he wouldn’t hate her.

“Abby?”

The woman in question looked up and saw Wakko standing in the doorway, tongue lolling out of his mouth as usual. Abigail smiled at him and patted the spot to the left of her on his bed. “Hey, Wakko. C’mere a sec?”

He closed the door and walked up to her. He crawled onto the bed and turned around so his feet were hanging off the side, like hers. He zeroed in on the package in her hands and pointed at it. “What’s that?”

“Well,” she started. “It’s a present. For you.” She held it out for him to take.

He perked up immediately and behind him, Abigail could see his tail wagging a little. “A present? Faboo!” He grabbed it from her and plopped it in his lap.

As he started tearing into the paper, Abigail laughed, sounding a little strained, “Careful now! You don’t want to rip it.”

He happily continued to pull the paper away, getting closer and closer to the gift, until—

He paused, the ripped, crinkled paper still folded up in his grip. Abigail saw blue, which meant he’d nearly finished opening it. She was silent, heart beating hard against her ribcage, as Wakko continued to pull the paper off, going much slower this time. A few seconds later, he was holding her present in his hands, staring down at it with an unreadable expression.

It was a new sweater, that much was obvious, but the only thing _new_ about it was its age. It was the same fabric, the same color, even the same tailor. It was brighter than his current sweater, but only because it wasn’t faded and stretched. It probably even costed the same. (Which had hurt their pockets, but they had held strong, because they loved Wakko and wanted to make him as happy as possible, and if this had a chance to do that, then they’d pay whatever they needed.) This new sweater was even a few sizes too big, meaning he wouldn’t grow out of it for years to come. For all intents and purposes, he held in his hands a near-perfect replica of his favorite sweater.

Wakko turned to Abigail slowly. Her heart was in her throat, she was so nervous. She could see pain in his eyes, but also confusion, like he didn’t understand why she was giving him this. That assessment was further confirmed when he simply asked, “Why?”

Abigail let out a small sigh and turned away. “We know why you don’t want to get rid of that sweater of yours, Wakko. And we’re not asking you to. None of us have _any_ idea what’s it like to go through what you are, but…” She shook her head before she turned and looked him in the eye again, seeing that the confusion was gone, and all that was left was pain. “Making yourself wear that sweater won’t make the last few years disappear. It won’t bring your siblings back. It won’t take away the hurt.”

Wakko whipped his head away, faintly trembling. His fingers dug into the new sweater and wrinkled the fabric.

Abigail gently leaned forward and set her hand on top of the sweater. “But that doesn’t mean you have let go of it completely. You’re growing and you can’t change that, but that doesn’t mean _everything_ has to change.” She bunched some of the fabric in her hand to emphasize her next words. “Take this sweater for instance. We commissioned it to be as similar to your current sweater as possible. The only difference is the size… and the amount of love that affected it.”

Wakko sniffed noisily and glanced at her shyly. “Love?”

Abigail smiled. “Yeah, love. You think your sweater is all stretched and faded and a little ragged—” she pulled a little at the ends of his sleeves, which were starting to unravel a little. “—just by existing? No, it was because you wore it all the time and played in it and ate in it and did _everything_ in it. Both now… and back then.” He looked away again, but this time he stared down at the sweater held in his and her hands. She let go of the sweater and placed her hand fully on one of his own. “We’re not asking you to forget where you got your sweater. We just want you to be comfortable and warm and to wear clothes that actually fit you, because I know all three of us have tried to fit into dresses too small, and dear _god_ , can it hurt.” 

Wakko snorted, his shoulders bouncing up with his laugh. Abigail’s smile softened and she lifted her hand to his cheek. She tilted his face up so he’s looking at her. The pain was still there, but it was less, and there was understanding too. “Do you get what I’m trying to say, Wakko?”

“... Yeah,” he whispered. “I think so.”

He pulled his face from her hand and looked back down at the sweater. He stared at it for a few moments before setting it down on his lap. He pulled his hat off his head and gently tugged on his sleeves, sliding them down his arms. Slowly, painstakingly, Wakko pulled the old sweater from his torso, his fur ruffled from the friction and nothing more.

With shaking hands, he set it aside and slowly picked up the new one. 

It fell over him as easily as water. His head popped out of the neck hole almost immediately and his arms glided through the sleeves as if they were made of silk. He smoothed the front down his torso and looked down at himself, absentmindedly placing his hat back on his head.

“It’s warm,” he said, voice soft. “And… big.”

“We wanted you to be able to wear it for a long time,” Abigail explained, just as soft. “Do you like it?”

His hands rubbed small circles into the fabric, as if trying to get a feel for it. His hands glided over his chest and stomach and shoulders and arms. He ended with sliding his hands under his armpits and curling in on himself in a sort of hug.

He turned his head to her and said, “Yeah, I… I think I do.”

Relief flooded Abigail’s chest and the tension dropped from her shoulders. She smiled wider, eyes crinkled and cheeks dimpling. “I’m glad.”

He gave her his own small smile before looking to his other side at where his old sweater laid.

“Like I said,” Abigail began, still quiet. “You can keep it. No one will make you throw it out.”

He nodded and slid off the bed. He gently lifted the old sweater up as if it were something precious, because it was. He walked to the end of his bed and opened his trunk, one hand cradling the sweater to his chest. He flattened his other unused clothes so it was more or less flat and gently laid his sweater out on top of them.

When he closed the lid a few minutes later, having been staring at his old garment, his eyes were wet but his cheeks were dry. As he wiped his eyes, he had a little bit of a frustrated look on his face, but once he’d cleared them of tears, he looked calm and content again. Abigail filed that look away for future thought, because one heavy conversation was enough for the day.

Abigail gave him another smile and, after asking if she could, gently laid her hand on his capped head.

“Hey, why don’t we go show off your new sweater?” she offered. “I bet the other kids will be _so_ jealous.”

His eyes lit up and he gave her a goofy smile before skipping towards the door, sweater paws swinging at his sides.

Abigail followed behind him with a little laugh. She went to go down the stairs, already hearing Wakko showing off his new sweater (“Look at what Abby bought me!” “Whaaat! That’s so pretty, unfair!”), but she hesitated. She glanced back at Wakko’s bed, at his trunk, and her grip on the door frame tightened. Her lips pursed as she allowed herself to feel the second-hand grief and anger at what her new _king_ had broken, but she quickly took in and let out a calming breath. Such thoughts could get her killed, after all, and she could not die. She had a traumatized child to look after.

#### Dot

It was a few weeks into Dot’s new food schedule with Marin (which is just him sneaking her snacks when he could) when Dot officially grew out of the pink onesie she’d arrived in.

In all honesty, it hadn’t truly fit her for many weeks now, but she had refused to throw it away, and since her guardians didn't really care what she wore as long as it wasn't disgustingly dirty, it was fairly easy to keep wearing it. 

Still, it was only a matter of time before her guardians realized the thing was too small.

“Oh, hon,” Leslie said upon seeing Dot walk into the kitchen that morning, lowering the newspaper in her hands to regard her condescendingly. She spoke the way she did when she was about to say something she thought was obvious and thus believed was stupid of Dot for not knowing. “That thing is past its prime, if you know what I mean.”

Dot frowned and looked down at the upper portion of the onesie she’d forced her body into, the only part that was visible as she’d also pulled on a pair of pants she’d been given because she thought the combination was cute. The fabric of the onesie was stretching and mildly faded, but she didn’t think it looked that bad. The white hemming and the tiny yellow flower at the hollow of her throat were less than pristine, but no more than any of Leslie’s clothes were. Who cared if there was a bit of space between the buttons that clasped up her front? It was barely noticeable!

She looked back up. “What’s wrong with it?” she asked.

“Well, it’s much too small,” Leslie explained, as if Dot didn’t know that. “It’s about time we pitched it, don’t you think so, Angelina?”

No, she very much _did not_ think so, _Leslie._

“It fits fine,” Dot protested, but she knew she was lying. The thing was pulling on her fur awkwardly and matted it down. She knew it had to go.

She _also_ knew that she’d rather die than part with it.

“Come now, Angelina, don’t make this more difficult,” Leslie said in that same condescending, know-it-all tone that ruffled Dot’s fur every single time. The fact that it’d been over a year and a half since she came here, and they both _still_ called her AnGeLiNa definitely didn’t help her growing temper.

“What’s all the fuss about?” Deb said as she entered the room.

Even though she knew she’d lose, Dot still pointed accusingly at Leslie and said, “She’s tryin’ t’make me take my clothes off!”

“Oh, don’t say it like that!” Leslie scolded at the same time that another Warner sibling, a day’s carriage ride away, thought _g’night everybody!_ out of nowhere.

“Y’mean that onesie?” Deb clarified.

Dot nodded as Leslie said, “It’s too _small_ , Deb, tell her I’m right!”

Deb glanced over Dot’s outfit and sighed. “She’s right, Angie—” _Ugh, even_ **_worse_** _._ “—The thing’s gotta go! Go back up and change, right now.”

Dot wanted _so badly_ to argue, to yell that she could wear whatever she wanted when she wanted, but she couldn’t force the words from her throat. She curled up, fur bristling and tail curling around her leg, under the disapproving stares of her guardians and froze.

What was she supposed to do? They wouldn’t listen to her, they barely paid attention to her when she asked, why would they care about her opinion on the last thing she had from her life Before? Besides her blanket, of course, but that was already too small for her, and her flower, but what if they took that too? What if it wasn’t cute enough for their standards? Or what if they decided she just didn’t deserve to be cute? That was her whole thing and they were just gonna take it from her? She hated it here _so much_ —!

“Angelina,” Deb scolded firmly and Dot jumped, face twisting in fear. “When I _tell you_ to do something, you _do it_.”

“Y-Yes ma’am,” Dot responded and made to turn around to head back upstairs when—

“Um… ma’ams?” 

All three of them turned to face the one who spoke. It was one of the other orphans, a nine-year-old girl named Jessica. She looked nervous as she stood in the doorway, her eyes darting from the floor to her guardians and the toe of her shoe scuffing against the floor. The other kids stood behind her. 

Deb sighed and prompted, “Yes, Jessica?”

“Oh! Um,” Jessica stuttered, jumping a little. She pushed up her glasses. “I-I was just, um, gonna suggest…” Her voice trailed off to a mumble, which Deb immediately scolded her on, telling her to speak up. “S-Sorry, just—couldn’t Do—um, Angelina’s onesie be turned into somethin’ else? That way it fits her, but she doesn’t have to, um, get rid of it?” Jessica dropped her gaze fully after her suggestion, eyes wide and anxious. The other three charges of the orphanage looked at the matrons pleadingly.

Dot felt a surge of hope and excitement fill her. Why didn’t she think of that! The possibilities were endless! She could have it be made into a shirt or a shawl, or some pants—or even a _skirt_ , it’d be so wonderful! 

She turned to her guardians with stars in her eyes. “Oh, please lemme do that!”

Deb didn’t look as enthused. “I dunno…”

Marin spoke up then, raising his hand. “I know how to sew, I could do it,” he offered.

“P-Plus,” the youngest kid next to Dot, a seven-year-old named Ryan, cut in, “it’d save fabric, yeah? A-And other clothes? You wouldn’t have to, um, buy her anything for a couple years, at least.”

That did it.

Deb smiled brightly before composing herself, and gave an unbothered shrug. “Alright, alright, that’s fine. Just make sure you don’t make a mess.” The last part was said to Marin with a pointed finger and look. He just nodded in agreement.

Leslie shrugged as well and went back to reading the newspaper in her hand.

Dot spun on her heel and skipped out of the kitchen and up the stairs to their shared bedroom. She quickly stripped and threw on another shirt before racing back down.

Marin smiled at her as she bounced happily in place, nearly a blur as she waited for him to get the sewing kit from the closet. The rest of the kids gathered around to watch Marin work.

“Alright, so what do you want?” Marin asked, looking at Dot, and she paused.

What _did_ she want? There were tons of possibilities, but she’d only get to choose one; there wasn’t that much fabric to work with. Like she said before, she could do pants, or a shirt, or she could even have him make a bunch of fabric accessories, that way she could wear her favorite thing with every outfit! Like a bow or another flower…

Actually. No. She knew what she wanted.

She smiled widely at Marin and placed her hands on her hips decisively. “Make it a skirt!” she declared and Marin laughed at her dramatics.

“You’re the boss,” he said and got to work.

It took quite a while for Marin to finish. Dot wasn’t actually timing it, but she knew it took most of the day. The other kids had gotten bored pretty early on and went to do something more entertaining, but Dot stayed close by watching him work. Even if it wasn’t always the most interesting to watch, she wanted to see every step of his creation.

He finished around mid-afternoon.

“Alright, Dot,” he said, sitting back. Dot held her breath, glancing up from the fabric to him. He smiled at her and nodded. “All done.”

She looked back down and slowly, reverently, picked the finished skirt up in her hands. She turned it over in her hands, looking at it with new eyes. It wasn't the professional-grade clothes she had worn Before, but it still looked well-crafted. It wasn't a slip-on skirt, but seemed to be one that you wrapped around your waist and clasped with buttons. Her fingers brushed over a series of buttons along the waistline.

“Those are for when you get bigger,” Marin explained when he saw her looking at them. “The smallest button will fit you now, but I made it so you could grow a bit and it’d still fit.”

Her heart clenched tightly at his thoughtfulness and she hugged the skirt to her chest. “I _love_ it,” she proclaimed and whirled around toward the stairs. As she ran towards them she called, “I’m gonna put it on now!”

Marin’s laughter followed her up the stairs. She changed lightning fast, throwing on a dark shirt that nearly matched her fur before she flung herself back down the stairs. 

She leapt into the common room like a ballerina, dancing and twirling back to the couch area where all the kids had gathered after her call. She spun in place before them before coming to a stop facing them and clasping her hands together. “How do I look?” she asked as she brought her clasped hands up by her cheek and tilted her head adorably.

“Cute, as always,” Marin complimented and the others agreed. 

Dot beamed at them and twirled around a little more. She loved how her skirt flowed around her and bounced with her movements. It was cute _and_ fun!

As she was posing to herself, Marin snapped suddenly and drew everyone's attention to him. "I just had an idea," he said.

"What is it?" Dot asked.

He gave her some finger guns as he walked toward the stairs and said, "I'll be right back."

He was back less than a minute later, hiding whatever he retrieved behind his back. Once he got to the group again he presented his findings. “Tada!” he sang.

It was her blanket, the one that was too small to cover her unless she curled up in a ball.

Dot blinked uncomprehendingly down at it before looking back up at Marin. “What about it?”

He gave her an incredulous look. “Well, I can make it into something, obviously!” Dot stilled. “Nothing too complex because there’s not much to work with, but, you know!” He rubbed the back of his head. “I noticed that it's gotten too small to cover you completely and I'm sure they'll start talking about getting rid of it more seriously, so I thought…"

“I love it,” Dot said simply and Marin looked back up at her. She smiled sweetly. “It’s a good idea,” she continued before looking back down at her beloved blanket. She reached out and touched it, thinking hard about what he could turn it into. It came to her pretty quickly: “How about a shawl?”

“With like, a button?” Marin asked and Dot nodded, beaming.

“With a button!”

He smiled. “Easy peasy.”

The other kids stayed nearby as he began work on her shawl. Which was perfect, because something had been eating at her.

“Um,” she started a little bit into the process, gathering the attention of her fellow orphans. Marin looked up briefly, but went back to his sewing. “I was just… why’d you guys do it?”

“Do what?” Jessica asked.

“Y’know.” Dot waved her hand around toward all the sewing supplies. “Suggest this. Got them to let me keep my clothes. Why’d you help me?”

“You really askin’ that?” Marin asked.

“I said the words with my mouth, right?” she countered, and the kids laughed like she said something funny. She frowned, but didn't get around to asking why they laughed.

“It just seemed like a good idea,” Jessica replied bashfully. “If you don’t wanna get rid of your onesie, then use the fabric to make new clothes. They didn’t seem to be thinkin’ of that and you looked real sad at not wearing it anymore, so…” Dot glanced over at the other two.

Ryan shrugged and spoke for both him and the other unnamed background character, “They were bein’ mean again, for no reason. Jessie had a good idea.”

Dot smiled sweetly at everyone. “... That’s really nice of you guys. I...” She hesitated, but everyone was looking at her expectantly, so she continued, "I though' you all didn' like me…"

"Where'd you get that idea?" Marin asked, and memories of her first months, of frustrated groans and annoyed glares and aching loneliness, flashed through her mind. And it hurt to think about, but she knew that was her fault, too.

She was the one constantly crying, after all. Of course they'd be annoyed with her. Of course they wouldn't like her.

"'Cuz…" she trailed off, genuinely unable to explain how she knew how they felt—or, used to feel, it seemed. Maybe because she stopped being so dramatic about it, it got better? 

What is she thinking? Of _course_ that's the reason. 

When she didn't continue, Marin said, “Well, we don't. Us orphans gotta stick together, y'know?"

She looked up and smiled a little, her heart still twinging with old hurt. Marin smiled back, before looking down at his work again.

"Yeah!" Ryan agreed. "W-We're all we have. It's like we're a big family!" The other kids laughed and agreed. Dot could only quietly wonder if families were supposed to hurt and then ignore that hurt. She didn't think her parents and brothers had been that way… but she couldn't be sure… and well, she supposed her brothers did end up hurting her in the end, even if they didn't mean to. They weren't here, they were pulled away, and that hurt more than anything in the world.

Besides, things were better now. Marin gave her food and made her clothes, and the kids were laughing around her instead of groaning or glaring. So it must be okay. 

Dot smiled and it felt fake, but she kept doing it anyway. "Okay," she said, and she thought the answering smiles she received were worth it. Everything was better when they were all happy, after all. Who was she to try and bring the mood down?

Marin soon sat up from his sewing with a wide grin. He grabbed her new shawl from the ground and presented it to her. "Ta-da! New shawl!"

Dot eagerly snatched the thing from his hands and swung it around her shoulders, giggling at his surprised squawk. She looked down and clasped the bright yellow button under her chin. Then she looked back up at her roommates. “Well? How’s it look?”

“What can I say?” Marin boasted. “My craftsmanship is truly incredible. Oh, and you look alright, Dottie.”

“I’ll kill you,” she snapped back and he laughed.

“You do look very cute, though, Dot,” Jessica said, smiling, and the two other kids nodded.

“Kids!” Leslie’s voice suddenly cut in. “Dinner!”

“Thanks,” Dot said to the others as they all got up. “This really means a lot, guys.”

“Don’t even mention it,” Marin said as he shoved all his supplies and scraps into one pile to deal with later.

They all walked as a unit to the kitchen where they stood in a line to get their food. Once it was Dot’s turn, Deb paused and gave her a once over. 

“Huh,” she started. “Y’don’t look have bad, Angelina. Marin did a good job.”

“Thank you,” Dot replied because she had to, as did Marin, since he was complimented.

Even if she didn’t care about her guardians’ opinions, them approving meant she could keep both the skirt and the shawl, which meant more to her than they could possibly know.

### Realization

#### Yakko

Mai had said that they would continue to talk about what they’d do to get Yakko out of the city and back with his sibs, but she had yet to pull through with that talk. It’d already been well over two weeks since he was dropped here and he was getting a little impatient. He still had no idea where Wakko or Dot were and he _still_ had no escape plan ready. 

He tried to bring it up with Mai a few times, but she’d always wince and tell him they’d talk when it was “safer” to, which he thought was stupid.

He didn’t care about safety! He just wanted his sibs back! No matter the cost! Why couldn’t she understand that?

Eventually, he decided that he didn’t need her help. He could come up with a plan on his own.

And he did! It was foolproof:

Step 1: Jump over wall.

Step 2: Find sibs.

Easy peasy!

Now, he knew this plan was basically the same plan he had when he tried to leave on his first day, and it didn’t exactly work out. But he knew what the problem was! Last time he had the whole city’s guard on his tail when he tried to escape. So! If they didn’t _know_ he’s escaping, then he’d be able to toon jump over that big ole wall and be on his merry way without any problem! He’d be long gone without any of them the wiser.

Yakko felt… a little bad, just leaving without telling anyone, but he didn’t know if Mai would try to stop him. Or worse, if she’d _tell_ on him. It was better if he just vanished without a trace.

That night, two weeks and five days into his imprisonment, was when he made his move.

He waited until the dead of night before beginning his escape (which was really hard, because he was _so_ tired, and even if the bed absolutely sucked, it was so tempting to just… fall asleep… but he didn’t!). He sneakily looked around at his fellow orphans as they slumbered around him. 

…

All asleep.

With a small grin, he slowly slipped out from under the covers. He slid his feet onto the floor and pulled himself from the bed. He winced when the floor creaked, but no one reacted, so he continued on his way.

He glanced at his trunk, where the remaining stash of food lied, but he moved passed it. He'd already stuff a bunch of fruit in his hammerspace anyway; it would have to be enough.

Yakko tiptoed his way across the room toward the stairwell door, easily making it past the slumbering kids despite the creaking and frowning, and cleared the first stage.

At the door leading to the first floor, he pressed his ear against the wood and listened for any signs of life.

…

Nothing.

He carefully opened the door and slipped through. Now came the tricky part.

The most straightforward way out of the orphanage was through the front door, but he didn’t know if those guards would still be there. He never saw them leave in the evening or come in the morning. They were always just… there.

(They were different people every day, every seven hours. Yakko didn’t notice at the time because he was six and never saw them change shifts. But they did. Just so you, the reader, knows.)

And because he didn’t know if they were still there, he couldn’t go through that door. So that left either going through the bathroom, the kitchen, or the matrons’ bedroom.

The latter was out of the question and the former didn’t have a window. Which left the kitchen.

Yakko slowly crept his way to the kitchen door, his heart pounding in his chest with every tiny squeak and creak. They _really_ needed an upgrade… 

Luckily, though, despite the seemingly endless floor sounds, he made it into the kitchen with no problem. 

He had to restrain himself from running to the window, the last obstacle before he could finally get out of this place. His heart still raced with adrenaline, but excitement joined his fear. He was so close to seeing his sibs again! 

He scrambled up the counter next to the sink, which had the closest window. He quickly unlocked it and pushed it open. He shivered as cold air rushed into the room before sliding over the side. He yelped as he fell the few feet down into the snowy alley and immediately pushed himself against the wall with both hands over his mouth. 

For a few heartstopping seconds, he listened intently for any running footsteps or cries for capture, but nothing came.

He made it.

Yakko pulled his hands from his mouth as a huge smile stretched across his lips. He pushed himself to his feet and sneaked to the mouth of the alley, the one that opened up to the main street. He peeked around the corner and immediately hid again as he saw a patrol of guards walking down the street. 

He scrambled a little as he tried to find a place to hide for when they passed by the alley before diving into a conveniently placed trash can. He slammed the lid on top after he got in and held his breath, trying not to breathe in the horrid smell.

He could hear the clanking footsteps of the soldiers as they neared and felt as if his heart would beat out of his chest. He could even see it stretching forward from his chest and quickly pressed a hand to it to keep his heart in place.

The footsteps passed to the other side of the alley, crossing in front of the orphanage and away.

Yakko let out his breath and inadvertently breathed in the trash can stench. He immediately rocketed out of the can and took in deep breaths to clear his nose of it.

Once calming down he looked toward the mouth of the alley again and paused. If he went that way, toward the brightly torchlit street that was constantly being patrolled by guards, he’d surely be caught. Which meant…

He turned around, toward the back, where the darker, scarier, but ultimately sneakier path lied.

Yakko gulped, but forced himself to continue walking forward. It’d all be worth it to see his sibs again. And he could tell them all about it, too! They’d be so impressed with how brave he was being, going through the dark back-alleys to escape the confines of the city. They’d think he was the coolest! 

Yakko scoffed a little. As if they don’t already.

(Never mind that they probably blamed him for their being apart. But he’d make it up to them by bringing them all back together. Dot would complain about how long it took him to find them, and Wakko would probably give him the silent treatment for a while, but it’d turn out alright in the end. He’d save them and be happy again. It’d be fine.)

He repeated this in his mind over and over as he crept through the scary alleys and backstreets. It’d be fine once he left, everything would be worth it once he got out. He’d be fine, they’d be fine, _everything_ … would be fine. 

It had to be.

—

He didn’t know how long he walked and crept and sneaked, but it was long enough that his feet ached and his eyes drooped. The path he was taking winded and twisted around all the buildings, rather than being a near straight-shot like the main path would’ve been. He passed unconscious bodies that smelled of alcohol and sorrow. Everything was so quiet and tense, like the city was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He wondered what exactly these people had been going through ever since Salazar took over.

Every time those thoughts crossed his mind, he shook his head to clear it. He didn’t have time to worry about these strangers, he was on a mission.

(His heart went out to them, though. Either way, he was just a kid; there wasn’t much he could do.)

Eventually, his dragging feet brought him to the mouth of another alley, this one much more lit up than he was used to. He rapidly blinked and rubbed his eyes as they adjusted to the sudden light.

Oh. He was at the main street again. He’d better turn back and get out of sight before—

_Oh._

A few dozen feet away was the wall surrounding the city. The very wall standing between him and his sibs.

Despite his exhaustion, a huge grin stretched across Yakko’s face. He was almost out! He was so close!

He quickly pressed against one of the buildings on either side of him and looked around the street, checking for any patrols.

None.

Excitement swirled through him and he dashed out from the alleyway. He raced down the street as fast as he could without his toon powers. He got ready to elasticize his body and leap over the wall, not quite noticing the strange block that kept him from enveloping himself in toon logic. He was so ready, so excited to escape, he could barely contain the elated laughter that threatened to spill out of him.

Soon, he was close enough. He reached deep into his toon powers and _jumped_!

… Only to fall back to the ground moments later, having gained only a few feet of altitude.

He crashed down, landing nearly face first on the cobblestones. His body stung where he landed, and for a few moments he simply laid there, confused. Then he pushed himself back up and tried again.

With the same results.

He felt himself growing frantic as he desperately tried anything to get himself to jump. He did a running leap, a standing jump, a cartwheel, anything he could think of. When he was in the air, he could feel his body becoming all jelly-like, but the second he touched the ground again, he solidified. Something was canceling out his toon powers the second he was on solid ground again.

_Solid ground…?_

He looked toward the closest building and immediately began scrambling up the side of it. Surely it would work from here! If the ground was the problem, then he’d get off it!

He balanced precariously on the slanted roof he’d scaled, feeling a hysteric desperation thudding through his veins. He ran along the center of the roof and sprang off the very end, reaching desperately toward the wall.

He fell.

That one hurt significantly more than the others did.

He hit feet-first and one of them slipped out from under him immediately, causing his whole leg to buckle due to the pain. He collapsed in a heap between buildings, hurt and confused. His ankle throbbed something fierce and he fought to catch his breath.

He didn’t understand why it wasn’t working anymore. He’d almost done it that first day, he’d nearly cleared the wall! Why couldn’t he jump anymore? What was _wrong_?

He slowly pushed himself up, and slowly, painstakingly, pulled himself to a standing position. He leaned heavily against the wall with all his weight resting on one foot. He sniffled, tears of pain blurring his vision.

What was he supposed to do now? Go back? He didn’t know if he could sneak back inside without alerting anyone with his foot all messed up. He’d definitely get caught, and then he’d get in trouble, and then what would he do?

Not to mention he didn’t even know _how_ to get back. He couldn’t remember what path he took through the back-alleys. His only hope was going down the main street, but he was sure to get caught there, too.

He was trapped.

Yakko was expecting to feel despair after that realization, or at least some amount of sorrow. Instead, he felt nothing. He felt the panic seeping out of him slowly, leaving behind emptiness. It was like there was a hole in his chest where all his feelings just… leaked out of him. 

He let himself slowly slip down the wall and plop onto the ground, hissing slightly when his ankle twinged in pain. He leaned against the wall, staring up at the sky above. It looked lighter than he was expecting; it must be close to sunrise.

His exhaustion finally caught up with him and he slumped against the wall. All tension dropped from his muscles and he stared blankly forward, waiting for the sun to rise and bring a new day to this cage of a city.

—

Upon waking up, checking on the kids, and realizing Yakko was missing, Mai, Gracie, and Auntie had been frantic messes. It had taken them less than a minute to come up with half of a plan to try and find him, which consisted of Mai running in one direction, Gracie running in the other, and Auntie staying behind just in case Yakko came back himself (and wasn't… well, anyway).

She and Gracie had left at the same time, greeting the men standing on either side of the door. Once they closed the door behind them and met the cold winter morning, they almost immediately took off down the opposite sides of the street. 

That had been thirty minutes ago. Mai was nearing the wall, finally. She would’ve made it there faster, but she kept ducking into alleys and checking every nook and cranny. She didn’t want to accidentally miss his sleeping or injured form, or his… Well, she’s not going to think about that. She’ll find him alive. She had to.

She stopped in front of an alley and nearly crumpled with the relief and fear that rushed through her. Her boy was slumped against the wall. She rushed to his side and saw his chest rising and falling, his body shivering in the cold air, his face scrunched up. Sleeping.

She slumped with relief, falling forward and catching herself with her hands. She breathed for a moment or two, head bowed and heart pounding. When she composed herself, she sat back up and looked down his body, searching for any obvious injuries. When she reached his foot, she winced, because it was heavily swollen. That was probably why he didn’t come back.

She looked back up to Yakko’s face and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. She shook him a little, whispering, “Yakko. Hey, Yakko, it’s time to wake up, bud.”

Moments later, Yakko woke frantically, his limbs spasming as he looked around fearfully. Mai quickly stopped touching him and put her hands in front of her in the universal _I’m not gonna hurt you_ sign. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, shhh…” 

Yakko’s eyes finally landed on her and he instantly relaxed, though his eyes were still wide and his breath still quick. Mai gave him an encouraging smile. “Yeah, see? Everything’s okay, you’re okay.”

Now calm, Yakko’s eyes flitted around the alley, a hint of confusion in them, before he seemed to remember something. He pursed his lips as he did and looked down at his lap. The fear left his eyes, which Mai was glad for, but… with the fear gone, there seemed to be nothing else. And that was much more concerning.

She forced herself past it for the moment, smiling weakly. “Let’s get you back, yeah? It’s freezing out here.”

Yakko nodded absently. Mai hesitated, before grabbing his hands and standing up slowly, helping Yakko to his feet. He winced and balanced on his good foot, the other one bent up behind him. There was no way he could walk with that.

“I’ll give you a piggyback ride, alright?” Mai said. He nodded again, and she turned and knelt down, offering her back to him. 

He shuffled forward until his chest pressed into her back and wrapped his arms around her neck. She reached back and grabbed onto the back of his knees. As she stood up, she pulled his legs on either side of her.

Yakko whimpered quietly, burying his face in her neck, and Mai winced. “Sorry, bud,” she whispered. “We’ll get that iced and feelin’ better in no time, ‘kay?”

She felt him nod. She pursed her lips as her concern grew—she’d only known him a few weeks, but even she knew his silence was worrying—but pushed past it for the moment; she could focus on that once they were back home and his ankle was taken care of.

Mai started the long trek back to the orphanage. The day was beginning, so there were a few people out that gave her odd looks, but people minded their business. Once she got stopped by a patrol of guards, something that had Yakko bristling and clinging tighter, but she convinced them that she and him had just been out for a morning stroll and he’d taken a bad tumble. They allowed the two to pass after that, but Yakko still stayed on edge for the rest of their journey.

Upon getting back to the orphanage, Mai paused as she realized a problem: if she just walked inside with Yakko, the guards there would notice. They knew she didn’t have Yakko when she left and she didn’t want to find out what they’d do if they knew Yakko snuck out.

Mai looked over her shoulder at her charge and her heart broke a little. His face was completely hidden in her neck and his ears were pressed back against his head. She tilted her head a little further back and pressed her cheek against the top of his head, nuzzling it in what she hoped was in a comforting way. “Hey, bud,” she whispered. “Where’d you get out from? Need to smuggle you back in.”

He was silent for a few moments, and she thought he might’ve fallen asleep, before he murmured, “... Kitchen…”

Mai looked down the alley next to them and saw that the window was, indeed, open. She wondered why she didn’t notice that when she did her initial cursory sweep of the rooms of the orphanage when she and the others were trying to find him in the first place. She could even see the disturbed snow from where he’d fallen and walked around.

She walked to the window and knelt down. She set his good foot down on the ground and gently pulled his arms from around her neck. She spun around and held his hands, helping him balance. “Alright, bud, I’m gonna help you through the window, ‘kay? Just stay sitting on the counter and I’ll come get ya.”

Yakko blinked slowly at her and nodded again. Mai once again moved past the worry and picked him up from under the armpits. She set him on the window sill and he obediently scooted further into the building. He winced and flinched as he pulled his injured foot inside, turning so he was facing the inside of the kitchen. He shifted himself away from the sink he was precariously balancing on and sat on the neighboring counter, legs hanging over the side. He turned his head to her.

She gave him another weak smile. “Alright, I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

She quickly exited the alley and went through the main entrance, greeting the guards again as she did. Auntie met her in the middle of the room and turned to walk beside Mai as she beelined for the kitchen. “Where is he?” Auntie whispered.

“Kitchen,” Mai responded, just as quiet. “Had to sneak him in. He’s hurt, I’m gonna fix him up and try to figure out what happened.” She paused outside of the kitchen door, hesitating, and turned to Auntie. “Something isn’t right with him. I dunno what it is yet, but he’s… not okay.”

Auntie’s face twisted further with worry, her face wrinkling even more. “That’s worrying… Any theories?”

Mai shook her head. “I’ll try to get the story out of him, once he’s warm and wrapped up.”

Auntie nodded. “Alright. He trusts you the most and I don’t want to crowd him. I’ll go and find Gracie so we can get breakfast ready.”

Mai nodded. “Okay. Good luck.” They shared another worried moment before they split. Auntie went back to the common room, where she would exit to retrieve their missing coworker, and Mai entered the kitchen.

Yakko was sitting right where she left him, gazing blankly at the floor. His ears weren’t pressed against his head anymore, but they drooped sadly, as did his tail behind him. 

Something happened last night. As far as Mai knew, Yakko had been the same subdued but still bouncy kid that’d slowly come out of his shell over the last few weeks when he went to bed last night. She worried what could’ve happened while he was all alone in the sleeping city to make him so… dull.

“Hey, bud,” Mai greeted softly and Yakko looked up at her. She suppressed a wince at his silence again. “I’m gonna carry you to the bathroom now, ‘kay? We’ll get you all clean and warm again.”

Then, to her surprise, he held up his arms to her, in the universal _please pick me up_ sign. She blinked away the shock before smiling softly and lifting the boy off the counter. He wrapped his arms around her neck and immediately buried his face in it as she supported his bum. His good leg wrapped around her waist and the bad one just pressed against her hip awkwardly.

Mai hummed softly, nuzzling her head against the side of his. “It’s alright, I’m here, I’m here…”

She was going to _eviscerate_ whoever hurt him.

On the way out, she snatched an icepack from the ice box, then made her way to the bathroom. Once there, she set him on the counter and crouched to grab the first-aid kit from under the sink. As she slowly wrapped the icepack around Yakko’s ankle with gauze, she sneaked glances at him to see his reactions. All he did was wince slightly and continue his blank stare forward. 

Mai softly cleared her throat and looked at his foot as she wrapped it. “So, Yakko,” she started. “What were you doing outside by yourself at night?” She waited, but he didn’t answer. She finished the wrapping and looked up at him. She expected to see… guilt or regret or pain or _something_ in his eyes when she did, but… there was just nothing.

_Oh, darling…_

Mai continued on, “... You were by the wall. Wanna tell me about that?” He only ducked his head further down. He slumped in on himself and Mai bit her lip before sighing. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you tried to escape last night.” He flinched a little, and Mai was both mildly disappointed and glad he was at least reacting. She rubbed her forehead and said, “Yakko, we’ve talked about this; it’s too dangerous to get you out now. We have to be patient and wait it out until—”

“I know,” he interrupted, surprising her.

“... Then why’d you do it?” she asked quietly.

He gave her a half-shrug and didn’t say anything else. She sighed.

“I… know it’s hard,” Mai softly began. “You miss your siblings and I’m sure they miss you, and you want to be with them… But it’s going to be a lot longer than you thought before we can get you out. Salazar put you here, in the capital, because he wanted to keep an eye on you.” She hesitated, debating whether or not to continue. His eyes were still distant, like he wasn’t all there. “... We’re supposed to send him… reports on how you’re doing. Like, academically and whatnot.”

He blinked and she saw a bit of awareness return to his eyes. They flicked to meet Mai’s and he quietly asked, “Why?”

Mai shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe because you were the… Well, whatever the reason, it means that it’s not gonna be easy to just… leave. That’s why there’s so many soldiers everywhere, why the orphanage is constantly under surveillance. Salazar deemed that under no circumstances were you to leave this city.”

She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this. Maybe to protect him, to make sure he understood his situation. Maybe because she was scared of that empty, empty look in his eye and wanted him to feel something, _anything_.

Regardless of the reason, it at least _did_ get something to spark in him.

His face scrunched up a little, his brow furrowing and his mouth frowning. She saw frustration flicker in his eyes.

“I don’t _get it_ ,” Yakko complained as he crossed his arms over his chest. It looked a little like he was hiding. “Why does he care so much where I am? Why do I matter so much?”

Mai was relieved he was showing emotion again, even if it was negative. She hesitated to answer his question though. She didn’t think it would do him any good to dwell on the _why_ of everything. Mai could hazard a guess, that Salazar was worried Yakko would grow to be a strong leader of a future rebellion, but that was all speculation. As was the theory she had on why he split them up—after all, if Yakko (and the other two) were so focused on trying to find each other despite all the odds stacked against them, they wouldn’t have the energy or experience needed to take Salazar on while he attempted to force Warnerstock to submit to him. 

But again, that’s all speculation.

She knew she had to give him something, though. So she settled on, “It wouldn’t help to know, Yakko. It wouldn’t satisfy you.”

“How d’you know that?” he said petulantly, looking away. “Only I can know that.”

“Please, Yakko?” Mai pleaded. “Trust me on this, it… knowing _why_ someone is hurting you doesn’t ever make it hurt less. You’ll never understand his reasoning.”

Yakko stayed stubborn, his face frustrated and eyes narrowed, but after a dozen or so seconds of quiet, he deflated again. Mai inwardly cursed as the emotion started to drain back to the nothing again in his eyes. He whispered, “Okay.”

“It’ll be okay,” she said, just as quiet. “You’ll get all big and strong one day and be able to break out. And your siblings will be waiting for you on the other side. Don’t give up hope.” She tried meeting his eye with a smile, to show him how sincere she was, but it didn’t work.

She let the smile drop back to her worried expression and gently pat his leg. “Hey… what… are you okay?” she said lamely.

Yakko blinked slowly then met her eye. They shared a few moments of quiet before Mai sheepishly laughed. “I guess that’s a stupid question,” she murmured. “Sorry. It’s just… What happened last night?”

“... I tried to jump th’wall again. It didn' work,” he mumbled, and she winced. He wouldn't have known, but after Yakko's first attempt when he arrived, Salazar had ordered the border around the wall be toon-proofed. The streets, the walls, the roofs, even the trash cans and bins in the alleys were all covered in the special toon-proof solution used for jailing toons. It was hitting the toons that lived in those districts particularly hard, but of course Salazar didn't give a damn. “I dunno why. Got hurt, ‘n I realized… m’stuck. M’not… gonna save ‘em.”

“‘Course you will,” Mai contradicted softly. “You’re a tough little toon, you’ll get out and you’ll be so happy when you see your sibs again and—”

“M’not!” Yakko shouted. Mai glanced fearfully at the door and back. “I can’t do it! Can’t hold out or be patient or get out. Can’t even jump right without gettin’ hurt.” He kicked out his injured foot in emphasis. “I can’t do _anythin’_ right. M’ _useless_.”

She'd never gotten so angry so quickly in her life. “ _No_ ,” Mai immediately shut down, standing up. She cupped Yakko’s face and made him look up at her, forcing eye contact. “ _No_ , you are _not_. You are a child who tried his best and you failed, and _that is okay_.” 

Yakko shook his head in her grip, hands grabbing her wrists and trying to pull her hands away. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Stop it, I am! I couldn' stop 'em from takin' my sibs 'nd I can't even get outta a city to rescue 'em! I can't—!"

“ _Look at me_ , Yakko Warner," Mai interrupted. He didn't, but she continued on before he could deny her again. " _None_ of that makes you useless. You just didn’t make it, but you can try again and again and again as many times as you need to, and _that is okay_.”

Yakko opened his eyes and looked up at her desperately, his breaths coming in half-gasps. There were tears in his eyes. Mai wished she could get her hands on Salazar and make him _pay_ for hurting this child so.

She looked Yakko firm in the eye and said, “You. Are not. Useless. You’re a kid who wants things to go back to normal. You're a kid whose world is falling apart. You're _scared_. And it’s all going to be okay.”

Yakko sniffled miserably and ducked his head. “I jus’ wan’ out,” he hiccuped. “I _jus'_ want out. I don’ wanna _be_ here anymore.”

Mai let the righteous anger drain out of her. She gently pulled Yakko’s head toward her and placed a kiss between his ears. She slid her hands down and wrapped her arms around him, turning her head so her cheek pressed against the top of his. “I know, bud,” she whispered. “I know.”

Yakko let out a heart-breaking keening noise. His arms shot around her and his hands clung to the back of her shirt. He buried his face in her chest and _wept_ , even harder than he had the first time. Mai kept her hold on him tight even as tears of her own pricked her eyes. It was all she could do.

Later, when he calmed down and had a well-deserved nap, she would once again ask what, specifically, happened to him. He would tell her he didn’t know, but that once he realized his plan to escape hadn’t worked, and he’d gotten himself hurt, he had felt like there was nothing in him. When he was woken up by Mai, he had felt like he was a few inches behind and above his body, watching everything happen to him like a movie. Considering how horribly his feelings had overwhelmed him when pressed, Mai suspected his brain was trying to protect him. It had seen the rush of despair and grief rising like a tidal wave and made it so he didn’t feel anything out of self preservation.

This kept him from breaking down in the middle of the city with no friend in sight, but it also made his breakdown that much more intense, as he’d been so disconnected from himself that every little thing he felt overwhelmed him.

But that was later. Now, Mai held the grieving child before her, wrapped tight in her warmth, and wished she could shield him from the world that hurt him so. 

At the very least, she could give him the safe space to deal with it.

#### Wakko

Upon waking up, Wakko immediately knew it was going to be a bad day.

At the time, he didn’t know the date or what would come that day, only that he opened his eyes, feeling a tightness in his chest, and just _knew_.

This feeling was further enforced whenever he got up and went downstairs. Everyone got quiet whenever they saw him; their conversations fizzled out and he could hear the wind whistling outside.

“Uh,” he said, at least glad that the day wasn’t so bad yet he couldn’t talk. “G’morning?”

He got a few responses in words, waves, and nods, but everyone kept sending him strange glances or stares as he went to get breakfast. It wasn’t until he was passing by the pantry, which held the calendar, and Abigail tried a few seconds too late to distract him from it, when he realized.

 _Oh,_ he thought, staring at the numbers and words on the flap of paper. _Today’s when…_

Well. You know.

And the thing is, he _knew_ time was passing. He grew out of his clothes, grew taller and wider, saw the others grow taller and wider, heard their voices grow deeper. He saw seasons change and pass and come back and on and on. He saw the sun rise and cross the sky and fall every single day. He _knew_ that, but it was different seeing it in writing, seeing the difference shoved in front of him with no warning.

He felt nothing at first, and then he processed the year, and then he felt everything.

Sorrow and grief and anger and defeat and fear and every bad thing he'd ever felt before. It all swirled in him, horrible and overwhelming, and it raised his hackles up and up and up until all he could think was _getoutgetoutmovemovegottamovegottagetouTGETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!!!!!_

“Wakko—” Abigail had finally made it to him, and she was probably going to try to comfort him or distract him or do something to try and make up for the fact that he was a middle brother with no older and younger siblings by his side, but he just couldn’t _deal_ with that right now.

Wakko turned on his heel and ducked around Abigail. He toon-sprinted out of the orphanage, ignoring the startled cries of his name. He veered left, towards the open, snowy field, and just ran and ran and ran.

He only stopped when his lungs burned and his feet were heavy as lead and his throat was scratchy and dry. He collapsed next to a tree, leaning his head against it, and heaved in gasping breaths. He’d run away from the calendar, but the horribleness remained. It swirled around in his stomach, making a growl rumble from his sore throat. He curled his hands into tight fists on the ground.

All his feelings coalesced and merged into his anger, his frustration, feeding into it and making it _unbearable_ to exist.

He didn’t know what to do with this feeling. He didn’t know where it came from. His whole body was trembling with it, his teeth grinding together. 

His eyes burned, blurred, and it was the last straw.

He looked around and saw only trees and grass and bushes as far as the eye could see. An idea bloomed in his mind and he stuck his hand into his hammerspace. As he stood on shaking legs he pulled out his mallet and got ready. 

He figured the town wouldn’t mind missing a few trees.

—

Pinky didn’t quite know how long he and Brain had been trekking through the woods, searching for the mysterious crashing that had been coming from further inside that Brain wanted to use to take over the world, but he knew it had been _far_ too long.

He panted as he walked, hunched over and arms hanging limply in front of him. “I don’t… think I… can go much farther, Brain. Narf…”

“Come Pinky.” Brain, too, was very much out of breath, but he was powering through it. “It can’t be too much longer now. Look, the tree line is thinning, and the ground is incredibly disturbed. We must be—”

Another crash sounded then, much, _much_ closer this time. So close that they were even able to see the tree as it toppled over. 

Right on top of Brain.

“Brain!” Pinky cried, all exhaustion forgotten. He raced over to where he last saw him. “Oh, Brain, oh, Brain! Can you hear me? Are you okay? Say something, oh curse it all!” he cried, throwing his arm over his eyes in grief. “Oh, what will I ever do without my beloved Brain!”

“... I am quite alright,” a strained voice came from under the tree.

“I’m already going insane from the grief!” Pinky wailed. “I can still hear his voice from the beyond!”

“Would you quit telling the forest I’m dead,” the voice said, sounding much more clear. “And help me out of here.” 

Pinky removed his arm from his eyes and saw Brain’s head and arms peeking out from under the tree. He gasped and the tight thing around his heart that he hadn't noticed before disappeared. “Oh, Brain! You’re just a head and arms!” He tucked his finger against his chin and thought. “Well, it’ll get some getting used to, but I guess I could carry you around in a little baby carrier on my chest right here.” He patted his chest, his smile returning as he pictured it and giggled. “Oh, that’d be so cute, don’t you think, Brain?” He looked back at his friend.

“You’re lucky I’m still trapped under here, else I’d have to hurt you,” Brain deadpanned.

“You’re so right, Brain! Narf!” Pinky giggled before grabbing onto Brain’s hands and pulling hard. Brain shot out from under the tree and the two of them went tumbling a ways away.

Pinky landed on his back, giggling like a maniac. “Egad, Brain! That was fun, let’s go again!”

“Only if you’re the one stuck under the tree this time,” Brain responded as he stretched his back. “Now, come, Pinky, let us find the one responsible!”

It didn’t take long. They followed the fallen tree until they found the end, which looked like it’d been torn, not chopped, from the stump sitting a foot or so away. And standing not too far away from that stump, staring off into the distance and panting like he’d been running a mile, was Wakko Warner.

It took Pinky a second to recognize him; he didn’t really interact with the dog-cat-bunny toon that much and only saw him occasionally around the village. Besides polite greetings, Pinky didn’t think they’d even had a formal conversation since they were introduced on his first day! 

It seemed Brain came to the same conclusion as Pinky. “Oh, blast it,” he said. “It’s just that young toon causing this destruction.” He gestured to the new clearing made, and the dozens of trees that’d been knocked down—probably by the very mallet held in Wakko’s trembling hand.

Wait. Trembling? 

Brain kept talking, but Pinky was focusing on the young Warner. He seemed out of it, like he wasn’t all there. He stood silently, staring at the latest tree he’d toppled while he panted and heaved. His shaking hand loosely held his mallet, the top of which rested on the forest floor. His fur was bristled and rough, and his tail lashed behind him, not unlike how a cat’s does when angry (and Pinky would know what that looked like; he’d seen Rita upset before).

In other words, something was wrong.

“In any case, Pinky,” Brain was saying, “let us return home. We must prepare for tomorrow—”

“Now, wait just a minute there, Brain,” Pinky interrupted. “Does something seem off to you about him?”

Brain looked over to Wakko and gave him a once over. “Well, I’d say he’s a little worn down by what looks like a temper tantrum. He _is_ a child, after all.”

“Well, sure, Brain, but it’s more than that,” Pinky insisted. “I think he might need help.”

“What could we possibly do to help an orphan besides giving him a home?” Brain asked. “And no, we’re not adopting him.”

“I wasn’t gonna say that.” Pinky waved him off, before mumbling, “... yet.” Then, louder, he said, “I just mean we should _talk_ to him! See if we can’t cheer him up or get him to let whatever’s inside out!”

“If it’s anything like his _belches_ , I fear what that may look like.”

Pinky giggled and blew a kiss to the camera. “G'night everybody!”

Brain sighed. “In any case, I can imagine that I won’t be able to stop you from talking to the boy. So have at it, then.”

“You’re the best, Brain!” Pinky wrapped his arms around him in a big ole hug, which Brain flailed around in. 

After Brain escaped his grasp, Pinky started down the trunk of the tree, towards Wakko. Once he reached the end of the trunk, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Yoohooo! Wakkoooo!”

The toon’s breath hitched as he crashed back into himself. He looked around frantically for whoever called him, mallet up and ready for attack, until his eyes finally landed on Pinky. He stared at Pinky, looking mildly confused.

Pinky only grinned. “Hello!”

Wakko opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything. His free hand came up to his throat for a moment before he closed his mouth and gave a little wave. He let his mallet fall back to rest against the forest floor.

Pinky was undeterred. “You know, I don't think we've talked that much since we met! D'you remember me? I’m Pinky!”

Wakko nodded. 

“It’s real nice to talk to you again, Wakko!” Pinky continued, undeterred.

Wakko gave him a small smile that quickly dropped from his face. Pinky hummed a little, his concern starting to grow inside him. He looked around at the downed trees and the uptorn grass. “Wow, did you do all this?” he asked rhetorically. “That’s so cool! You’re so strong!”

Wakko gave a little half shrug before pulling up his mallet from the ground. He stuck it behind him, probably into his hammerspace, before trotting over to a nearby fallen tree and plopping down by it. Pinky jumped to the ground and joined Wakko by that tree, plopping down beside the toon and looking up at the now-visible sky. It was about midday.

The two of them were quiet for a bit, as Pinky tried to think of what else to say. He still didn’t know quite what was wrong. 

Discreetly, he looked over Wakko. The toon was looking up at the sky with a far away look in his eye. He had his knees up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. His tail curled around his feet and his tongue hung outside his mouth. He looked… tired, but not in a sleepy kind of way. It kinda looked how Brain sometimes did when he felt hopeless after another failed attempt to take over the world. But Wakko was only seven; what could a seven-year-old have to be so hopeless over?

Pinky’s eyes flickered down to Wakko’s sweater. He didn’t quite know why at first, but then he realized that it was new. It wasn’t the one Wakko had been wearing quite literally everyday since he arrived in Acme Falls.

A new sweater meant he grew out of the old one, because he’s been here for so long. How many years had it been…?

Oh! That must be the problem!

… Oh. _That_ must be the problem…

Pinky looked back at the sky and couldn’t help his smile turning sad, his tone remorseful. “Say, you’ve been here for a little bit, haven’t you?” Wakko stilled beside him, and he knew was right on the money. “I can’t even remember exactly. I saw you touring around and whatnot back then, but I didn’t think much of it.” The kid curled tighter in a ball, his head dipping down. Pinky felt a little doubt seep into him, but he pressed forward—hitting stuff was all well and good, but sometimes you needed to actually talk about it. “How many years has it been…?”

After a moment, a choked hum came from Wakko’s throat. Pinky turned to him fully with a questioning hum of his own.

Wakko worked his jaw back and forth, his lip curling back. Pinky waited patiently. Then, Wakko forced out in a breaking and soft voice, “Th-Thr-ee ye-ars…” He suddenly grabbed his hat and pulled it down over his eyes, tilting his head further down and away. Hiding.

“Oh, Wakko…” Pinky whispered, jumping up so he could set his hands comfortingly on Wakko’s leg.

“I-It’s jus’ not _fair_!” Wakko whimpered, his voice still rough and wet. “Th-ey rrripped us ap-art fffor nnno rea-son. IIII ha-ven’t seen m-my sib-lings for yyyears and III dunno _why_!" He sniffled noisily and Pinky gently pat his leg. “A-Aaaand I’m jus’ s-o aaang-ry and alo-one ‘n I jus’ keep _cryi-ng_.” He rubbed at his eyes harshly and growled, “I-I _hate_ cry-ying.”

“Why’s that?” Pinky asked, genuinely confused. 

Wakko huffed out a breath and glared forward, not looking at Pinky. “IIII _haven’t_ gggiven up o-n them,” he insisted.

Ah. He thought crying over being apart meant he thought he’d never see them again. He thought crying over this was the same as giving up.

“No one is saying you have,” Pinky assured softly. “Crying just means you’re sad.”

“Ye-ah, sad ‘m nnnot gon-na ever see ‘em a-gain,” Wakko grumbled. “I tol' m'self IIII wou-ldn' ever cry-y over 'em ‘nd m' _nnot_ . I’ll sssee ‘em again. I _will_.”

Hm.

Pinky glanced toward where Brain still stood, just within hearing range. The other mouse seemed thoughtful, lips frowned and brow furrowed.

Pinky had an idea.

“You know, Wakko,” Pinky started, plopping back down and looking up at the sky. “I used to get really scared that something would happen to Brain and I’d be left all alone. You know Brain, right?”

Wakko nodded a little.

“He’s my one person in the _whooole_ world,” Pinky continued. “And for some reason I was terrified something would take him away from me. I used to cry myself asleep every night because I was just so scared.”

“Bu’ why?” Wakko asked. “Hhhe was wi-th you rrright? WWWhy were you a-fraid?”

“I dunno.” Pinky shrugged and shook his head. “I had just convinced myself that eventually he’d leave me and I wouldn’t be able to do anythin’ about it. Eventually I got so low that I made myself go see Dr. Scratchansniff to try and make all the bad things go away. And though being alone is still a big fear of mine, it doesn’t rule my life anymore. Narf!" Pinky giggled a little. “And as you can see, Brain is still with me and I’m still with Brain.”

“... Why’d y-ou tell me this?” Wakko quietly asked.

“I cried because I was scared I’d lose Brain,” Pinky said, just as soft. “It wasn’t that I _wanted_ to be alone, it was just scary to think about. And that fear would be too much sometimes and I needed a way to release it, so I’d cry.” Pinky turned to Wakko, who still wasn’t looking at him. He gently placed his tiny paw on Wakko’s leg again, leaning forward so he was in Wakko’s peripheral. “You crying because you miss your siblings doesn’t mean you believe you’ll never see ‘em again, it just means you’re _scared_. And that’s okay too. You’re allowed to be sad about it. You’re allowed to cry.”

Wakko was trembling again, but Pinky could tell it was different this time. He sniffled noisily. “I-I wan’ my brother, Pinky. I wan’ my _sister_. Why’d he do it? W-Why’d he take ‘em away from me?” Tears dripped from his eyes as he spoke, soaking into his sweater. He buried his face in his knees.

“I dunno, Wakko,” Pinky whispered, tears of his own gathering in his eyes. He gently climbed up the kid’s leg and pressed himself against Wakko’s hat in a hug. “I just don’t know.”

Wakko shuddered violently as he continued crying into his sweater. Pinky nuzzled Wakko’s hat, hoping he could feel the comfort Pinky was trying to give him. Out of the corner of his eye, Pinky saw Brian lingering a little ways away. He looked genuinely shocked, staring at the two of them.

Pinky waved him over with a sad smile. Wakko needed all the comfort he could get.

Brain hesitated but came over and climbed up Wakko’s other knee. He stood there awkwardly, looking to Pinky for guidance. Pinky smiled and squeezed Wakko’s hat tighter, implying that Brain should do the same.

Brain slowly pressed himself into a hug against Wakko’s hat, looking tense and mildly uncomfortable, but he was trying and Pinky loved him for it.

The two of them stood there comforting the grieving toon for a long time. His crying was nearly silent, his sobs mere whimpers even as they wracked his body. Pinky murmured gentle words of comfort, letting him know it’ll be alright. Brain even relaxed a little into the one-sided hug, resting his head against the hat and closing his eyes.

Eventually Wakko’s tears subsided. He sat there, face hidden, for another minute or so before he sighed and slowly brought his head up. It gave Pinky and Brain enough time to release his hat and stand solidly on his knees.

Wakko looked absolutely exhausted, but he managed a small smile for the two mice. “Thank you,” he whispered. His voice was raw, but steady. 

“Of course, Wakko. Poit!” Pinky said, smiling back.

Wakko looked to Brain, who fumbled a little. “I—didn’t do much. Your thanks should be given to Pinky alone.”

“You were here,” Wakko countered softly. “That means a lot. Thank you.”

Brain paused, looking surprised, before offering an awkward smile. “Well, then you’re very welcome, Wakko. It’s, um… It is nice to speak with you again.”

Wakko smiled a little. “You too.”

They were just too cute!

“Do you feel any better?” Pinky asked.

He shrugged a little. “I dunno. I’m still here.” Which Pinky understood. Even if Acme Falls was near perfect, it didn’t have the two things Wakko wanted most in the whole world. “But… I feel less… heavy? I’m still sad, but it doesn’t feel unbearable anymore."

“That’s good!” Pinky said. “Crying is alllll about purging bad emotions away. I’m glad we could help.”

“I as well,” Brain chimed in. “I can’t imagine what going through this must feel like. You are very strong, Wakko.”

The toon snorted. “I just spent the last forever crying my eyes out. What about that is strong?”

“Oh, come now,” Pinky lightly scolded. “You’ve been shouldering this sadness all by yourself! That’s hard to do! And allowing yourself to feel that sadness can also be real tough. Bottling your emotions isn’t healthy, but it’s easier than facing it.”

“Yes, to that I can contest,” Brain said. “I myself… struggle with expressing emotion like that. It can’t have been easy to let yourself be vulnerable like that in front of two veritable strangers. To not only be dealing with loss the way you are, but also allowing yourself express it… you are stronger than I, Wakko.”

He was quiet for a spell, just looking at them. He seemed to be trying to tell if they were just saying that to make him feel better. Pinky didn’t know about Brain, but he knew he was telling the truth. He believed every word he said, and he was sure Brain did too.

Finally, Wakko relaxed a little and smiled again. “Okay. If you say so.”

“We do!” Pinky cried, jumping for joy.

“Yes indeed,” Brain said, a soft look on his face. Pinky wondered if he wouldn’t be able to convince Brain of that whole _adopting_ thing they’d glossed over earlier. “In any case, we ought to return home. It’s getting late, and I’m sure the orphanage matrons are worried sick.”

Realization flashed over Wakko’s face. “Oh no, I just ran out on them without telling them where I’d be!”

“Oh no!” Pinky’s hands slapped against his cheeks.

“Yes, well, let us make haste, then,” Brain concluded.

“Here, I’ll give you guys a ride!” Wakko said as he picked them up in his hands. He cradled them gently in both hands before he started running in the direction of the town.

Pinky laughed as the wind rushed in his ears. Brain was quiet for most of the ride. A few minutes before they arrived home, he softly said, “You never told me about that before.”

Pinky knew what he was referring to. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he replied, just as quiet. He didn’t know if Wakko could hear them, but he was glad the younger toon was letting them talk in peace.

“I understand that, but…” Brain sighed. “I know I’m not the most… emotionally present, but I do… care for you, quite a lot, Pinky. I want you to be able to trust me with the things that ail you.”

“Okay, Brain,” Pinky said, a warm smile on his face. His insides were feeling all mushy and wonderful. “I love you, too, Brain.”

Brain sputtered, but he was smiling. Above them, Wakko was smiling too.

—

After dropping Pinky and Brain off at their home (and pretending he hadn’t heard that gross and sweet conversation of theirs), Wakko headed back ho—to the orphanage. It wasn’t a long walk and he spotted Abigail almost immediately standing outside the door. She had seen him too and was waiting for him to come to her, as far as he could tell.

Seeing her now, Wakko felt guilt bubble up in his chest.

Whenever he was a few paces away, she probably couldn’t take it anymore, and rushed to him quickly. She knelt and gathered him in her arms, hugging him tightly. He rested his chin on her shoulder and wrapped his own arms around her. “M’sorry,” he mumbled and she shook her head.

“It’s a lot,” she whispered. “We understand. I’m just glad you’re alright. I was worried you might’ve…” She didn’t finish, and he wasn’t quite sure what she meant. Maybe she thought he ran away?

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t tempting. Of course he had fantasies of escaping into the woods all on his own and finding his siblings. He thought about it all the time, of exiting on the other side of the forest and finding a town and it’d be the exact town Salad Bar had left Dot and Yakko, and they’d conveniently be on the edge of the forest too and they’d meet his eyes and smile and they’d all hug and everything would be right in the world.

And even if he dreamed of that happening, he knew at the back of his head that that was unrealistic.

A full minute passed into their hug when Abigail finally pulled away. She shifted her hands up so she was cupping his face gently. Her thumbs caressed the damp fur under his eyes and she gave him a sad smile. “Are you feeling better? Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m okay,” he said. “Pinky and Brain helped me.”

“Pinky and…?” Abigail looked surprised.

He nodded. “Pinky told me a story about him and Brain and made me realize I was being dumb about crying.”

Abigail laughed a little. “Well, I’m glad he was able to help.”

“Mhm.” Wakko yawned suddenly.

“Sounds like someone tired himself out,” Abigail said with a little amused smile.

“Mhm,” Wakko hummed again. “Can I go take a nap?”

“Of course, Wakky.” Abigail stood up and offered him her hand, which he took. Together, they walked back into the orphanage, where Abigail escorted him to bed.

He crawled in and tried to get comfy on the thin mattress, curling up like a puppy. Abigail tucked him in and gently pet his head. “Sleep tight, Wakko. I love you.”

His tail wagged happily under the covers and Wakko grinned sleepily and goofily up at her. “Love you too.”

Abigail grinned and left the room, allowing Wakko to fall asleep without a single hurtful thought about his siblings.

#### Dot

Throughout her first weeks… months… _year_ , really, all Dot did was cry.

That's an oversimplification, obviously, because of course she did other things, like eat and bathe and play, but what she did most was cry. Loudly. Inconsolably. Annoyingly.

It seemed like every little thing could set her off. She'd just be toddling along and she'd look at a red bouncy ball and burst into tears, or someone would be singing a song and suddenly the only thing anyone could hear were high-pitched wails.

And her guardians weren't the only ones to be annoyed by it. The other kids didn't understand why she was so upset all the time, and Dot just didn't have the words to explain. She'd babble about her brothers, but none of the kids remembered their birth families so they didn't understand how important they were to her. Her cries wore on them; all they heard was an annoying, fussy baby. They didn't see the grieving little sister she was. Which only made it worse, because no one could truly comfort her.

Her guardians barely cared and her fellow orphans didn't understand, and Dot was just _so alone_.

Dot was just so _scared_.

It came to a head about ten months into her first year.

Dot was in the common room, playing by herself with an old doll she'd been given. She had her blanket around her shoulders and her little fingers clutched at the doll's arms as she bounced it back and forth, half of a song running on repeat in her head. She was trying to remember the words, but she could hear the tune in her head.

She frowned deeply at her doll as she bounced it, her little tongue sticking out as she searched hard for the words. She could see flashes of a memory in her mind.

It was… dark, but there was orange light… a fire? She was wrapped in the very blanket around her shoulders now and she was held in strong, warm arms. She was young, very young, but she remembered the tense air… it was quiet, but badly so. Every time she blinked her eyes open, she could see a figure standing near the fire(place?). They (she?) were… not happy… worried, maybe? She couldn't see her brothers. She didn't know if they were there.

Dot frowned harder, her forehead creasing drastically. 

She was passed off to another pair of hands, smaller, but steady, and that was where her brother was! Yakko held her as the person holding her before ( _daddy?_ ) walked to the other figure ( _mama?_ ). He was whistling at first, slowly, melodically, but then he started to sing softly, just for mom. He was trying something… trying to cheer her up. Because she was upset over something, but Dot didn't know what. And he failed, at first, because she remembered feeling Yakko relax in defeat, looking disappointed. 

Then her mother's voice filled the air.

Her brother perked up as her dad looked back to her mom. _What was she saying—singing?_

It was slow and high and soon their parents were singing together. They picked up speed and the atmosphere lightened, became happy and energetic. Her parents danced in a circle in front of the fire, arms linked as they stared lovingly at each other, and Yakko bounced in time with their words, laughing as their parents sang. She could now see Wakko jumping enthusiastically beside Yakko, humming along to the melody because he didn't know the lyrics. _What were the words—!_

Something something _dancing_ something something _dreaming_? 

Dot loved that song. It made her parents so happy, and when they were happy, everything felt okay. Like nothing bad could happen. 

She really needed that feeling right now.

Finally, her frustration took over.

She turned to her side, where her brother would always be, and asked, "Yakko, what're th'words to that song mom 'n dad always dance too?"

She blinked at the open space beside her. She saw the other kids looking at her over the couches and chairs because she spoke, and some of them had an anticipatory look on their faces, like they were waiting for something.

 _Oh,_ she thought, and burst into tears.

Over the sounds of her wailing, she heard the kids groan. One of them, the thirteen-year-old, got up and walked to Dot, having been declared the official Dot calmer because he was the oldest of the kids. (You remember him, Marin? With the stealing food and the sewing? Yeah, him.)

"I'll go get the moms," one kid said, Ryan, who would eventually grow out of the habit of calling Leslie and Deb 'mom', before running off.

Marin sat a foot or so away from Dot, knowing from experience that she didn't want anyone to touch her unless their name started with a 'Y-' or a 'W-' and ended in '-akko'. "It's alright, Dot, you're safe," Marin said, sounding tired but still concerned. No one liked hearing her cry, but only half the reason was because it annoyed them. They didn't want her to be unhappy either.

(At least, the kids felt that way. Jury's still out on the matrons.)

"Ya-a-akko-o!" Dot hiccuped. "Wa-akko!"

"They're not here, Dot," Marin said. "It's just me. It's gonna be okay. Everything's fine."

"No!" Dot yelled, scrubbing at her eyes and face. "I wan' Yakko! I wan' Wakko!"

"You can't _have_ them," Marin said. "Y'gotta deal with what you can get. Let me hold you?"

"No, no…!" Dot cried, softer this time. She was calming down faster than normal, to the surprise of everyone still in the room. Tears still dripped from her eyes, but her sobs had quieted. "Wanna go home," she whimpered, exhausted, and Marin sighed.

"I know," he murmured. "Us too. Home's not there anymore, though." The kids behind him all looked away, all thinking of what could've been, had they not been abandoned or orphaned.

Dot hiccupped and whimpered, and blindly crawled forward, aching eyes shut tight, toward Marin. After a stunned moment, he grabbed hold of her and pulled her into his lap, where she clung to his shirt and rode out the rest of her grief.

Dot was just so _tired_ of being sad.

By that time, Ryan had returned—alone. "I was gonna grab 'em," he said when asked, "but I heard them talkin' about something. About, um… Dot."

Marin turned slightly at her name, but Dot stayed curled away. She didn't have the energy for it.

If she had looked, she'd've seen Ryan looking genuinely worried. "It's just—" he began, pulling on the hem of his shirt with his eyes darting from the ground to Dot and Marin. "They were talkin' and they were sayin' that if Dot keeps all this cryin' up, she might not get adopted ever!" He said it like it was the worst thing ever, but when you lived at _Burbank's Home for Children_ , it kind of was. All of them couldn't wait to leave.

"That's not true," Marin said. "Dot's the cutest thing ever, she'll get adopted no matter what."

As if she wanted to, she would have said had she been present in the conversation.

"But that's the thing!" Ryan countered. "She's cute, yeah, but Leslie said she'd be cuter and much more adoptable if she stopped cryin' all the time!" Ryan then rushed to Marin's side and pulled on Dot's shoulder, successfully getting her to bring out her tear-stained face. "Y'hear that, Dot? Y'gotta stop crying or you'll never get a family!"

"C'mon, Ryan, don't say that!" Marin protested and pulled Dot away from him as she frowned, confused. 

She didn't know how to just _stop crying_. Every time it happened, she had no control over it. All her feelings were just too big for her little body. What else was she supposed to do?

But… she _was_ sick of it. Crying was so exhausting… and she knew everyone hated it, even if they didn't outright say it (well, the _kids_ didn't say it outright, at least not to her face).

"—so don't you listen to him, 'kay, Dottie?" Marin was saying.

"I'll kill ya," she said in reflex, voice still warbly from her crying, but everyone laughed and started to move on.

Except Dot.

See, for some reason, she couldn't quite put what Ryan had recited out of her head. It followed her around for the rest of the day and into the night, and snuck up on her the following morning. _Y'gotta stop crying or you'll never get a family!_

It was stupid, because she had a family already. They weren't here, but they existed. She remembered Yakko's voice singing with her parents, she remembered Wakko's hand in hers as he dragged her to and fro the moment she began walking. She could see their faces in her mind. They were real and they were hers and she had cried before coming here and they still stayed with her, so why exactly did those words bother her so much?

She tried to forget about it. It was just another dumb adult thing she didn't understand. She had more pressing matters, which was making sure her doll was ready for the battle of BookLandia that was to take place after lunch. But still she wondered. 

It just wouldn’t leave her _alone_. It was like the thought had nested in her brain and kept waving a flashing, neon sign that read _PAY ATTENTION TO ME_. It was so annoying.

And then… it became scary.

See, Dot was just minding her business playing with herself while the other kids were at school and Leslie and Deb did whatever Leslie and Deb did during the day. She was nursing her doll’s battle wounds after she won the battle of Booklandia and set the prisoners of Various Pencils ‘N Pens free when she suddenly realized why Leslie’s words stuck with her so.

The thing was, Leslie’s words implied Dot could eventually be adopted, which just wasn’t true. Dot wasn’t ever ever ever gonna go with another family, and Dot had made that very clear every time she was told of possible adoption opportunities, so Leslie should know how Dot felt about it. Which meant Leslie said that about her brothers. So basically… 

What if Yakko and Wakko wouldn't want her if she cried?

And that was stupid to think, wasn’t it? Because of course they’d still want her! They were her brothers, they loved her! They wouldn’t...

But… well, all the other kids hated her crying. They got so annoyed and frustrated with her, especially when it was one of the worser ones that went on with seemingly no end. So is it really that unrealistic that her brothers would hate it too?

Dot frowned and shook her head, feeling a familiar horrible tightness growing in her chest.

It wouldn’t matter if they hated it, right? Because she's crying over missing her brothers, so if they're here, then—

_But who's to say it'll stop?_

Dot startled at the thought, looking up from her doll.

What if… she's just like this? What if she just cries over everything, all the time? What then?

… Would they abandon her ~~again~~?

No, they wouldn't—

_Why wouldn't they?_

Dot wanted to cry.

After all, _everyone_ hated when she cried, even Dot herself. Could she even blame her brothers if they left her again? If she continued doing something that everyone hated even despite them hating it, did that make her a bad person? Was she bad for crying all the time?

She just couldn’t _help_ it. She didn’t know what else to do when she was overwhelmed with her feelings. Aren’t you supposed to cry when you’re sad? Isn’t that why you did it?

What did she do then? Was she just supposed to _stop crying_?

**_How?_ **

Dot curled in on herself, whimpers crawling up from her throat. It just wasn’t _fair_! Why did everything have to be so hard for her? Why did she have to be shamed for expressing her sorrow? Why couldn’t everyone else just deal? Why was she the one who had to change?

… Well, she felt that way, but she wanted— _needed—_ her brothers, so if she needed to stop to have them, then… 

Dot pressed her doll to her face as tears spilled from her eyes. She bit her bottom lip hard to try and stifle the breathy sobs that tried to escape her mouth. Her body bobbed with them, shoulders hitching up with each gasp.

She didn’t know if covering her mouth and halting the sounds in her throat actually worked to quiet her or if she was just being ignored, but no one came to yell or obligation-comfort her. Eventually, she calmed herself down and pulled her face from her now-soaked doll, eyes aching and exhaustion once again weighing her limbs down. 

She was alone, but… no one was yelling at her. If aloneness was the price for peace of mind, Dot would gladly pay it. Even if she hated being alone.

“You still alive in here?” Leslie’s voice startled Dot and she whirled her head around. Leslie leaned out from the door to the office, her eyes glancing over Dot, before she nodded. “That’s a yes then. Okay, just making—” She narrowed her eyes suddenly, looking a bit closer. She stepped fully out of the doorway and placed her hands on her hips. “Have you been cryin’ again?” she asked accusingly.

Dot shrunk back a little, clutching her doll closer. She hesitated, but shook her head. “No, ma’am,” she mumbled.

Leslie’s eyes narrowed further and Dot tried to look as innocent as she could in her exhausted state. Finally, she relaxed. “Alright, I’m only believing you ‘cause I’ve heard exactly no peeps outta you since lunch.” It was mid-afternoon by now. “That just means your face is all wet with suspicious fluids, but if you’re still alive, then it probably isn’t anything poisonous. You get into anything you shouldn’t be?”

“No, ma’am,” Dot replied, relieved she was getting away with it. 

“Then unless you need that cute face’a yours cleaned up, I’ll see you at dinner.” Then she went back to the office and closed the door.

Dot blinked slowly at where Leslie left before turning back to her doll. She looked at it blankly, processing that interaction.

So… being quiet and lying about it meant no yelling and no annoyance. It meant Dot would just be left alone. And if she kept doing that, being quiet and lying, she’d pro’lly get better at it too, which meant that by the time her brothers found her, it wouldn’t matter if she cried all the time, because they’d never know she’d cry in the first place.

…

Good to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you could not imagine my joy at finding out Dot's onesie is the same color as her skirt. i love me some continuity opportunities my dudes.
> 
> One line of Wakko's fuckin' got me while I was writing it lol. It was the "I wan' my brother, Pinky. I wan' my _sister_." In the middle of writing the line I was like _fuck shit ass cock my fucking heart i'm so fucking sorry wakko_ agadsgasdgd. I played myself.
> 
> Also I'll probably come back later and do some edits, so if you want updates on that, following my writing blog imbeccable-writes on tumblr!
> 
> ~~yes that is a shameless plug. no i don't feel any remorse for it.~~


	4. In Memoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dot tells herself a story. Wakko plays dress-up. Yakko hangs around with Mai. 
> 
> Or, the things we do to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first, I got [fanart](https://rgbyshipper101.tumblr.com/post/642971970424668160/yakko) and it hurts me every time.
> 
> Second things second, a character hyperventilates/has a panic attack near the end. It starts at the line "He snapped back into himself with a gasping, shaky, aching breath." and ends at the line "He felt something cold suddenly press into his neck and it shocked him enough that he was able to get a hold on his spiraling thoughts." stay safe <3
> 
> And third things third... :) enjoy.... i know _i_ will.

Let’s not sugar-coat it. Dot barely remembered anything about her brothers.

It was a fact that always made her want to break down again, loudly, inconsolably, like she had before so that the world might understand just how it had wronged her, because how cruel was that, really? That she would be torn from her family, cast aside as if she meant nothing, and be left without any real memory of that very family?

She never did, of course. She still had that very first lesson she’d ever been taught in this place ingrained in her head—nobody cared about her troubles, even family. Nobody wanted to hear it, nobody wanted to see it, and nobody would want her if she expressed it. And yes, she did not misspeak when she said _first_ lesson. Marin did eventually teach her how to sneak food for herself, a course that had many required skills and facets. All things needed to live in the _awe-ful_ place that is Burbank’s Home for Children.

(D’you get it? Because awful used to mean awe-inspiring, hence the spelling “awe-ful”, but in modern day it actually means something was horrible? She’s being sarcastic about how horrible it was there? Ugh, Dot’s genius wordplay was lost here.)

Though she supposed she ought to be grateful she landed in this specific orphanage, because she doubted anywhere else she would have such _wonderful_ guardians that made sure she remembered she even _had_ brothers in the first place.

Now, reader, you may remember just how Dot’s guardians acted in previous chapters, which might lead you to thinking, _Really? Them? Leslie and Deborah?_ **_They_ ** _helped Dot remember Yakko and Wakko?_ And I assure you this was true. However…

 _“Oh no, you do_ **_not_ ** _get to just up and forget those little brats just ‘cause you’re growin’ older,” Deb scolded once, when she overheard Dot mention she was forgetting her brothers’ names. “If I gotta hear your cranky-ass cries of_ ‘Yakko, Wakko!’ _ringin’ in my ear for all of time, you do too!”_

… It’s not as if it were a _kind_ gesture.

And while it was entirely possible other guardians in other orphanages might have listened to Dot’s baby babbles and remembered the stories she told (or, in her case, _wanted_ to tell), and helped Dot remember them further down the line… Dot didn’t think it was realistic. All orphanage matrons must just be like Leslie and Deb.

If they weren’t, then it would mean Dot was just _unlucky_ in getting the worst of the worst taking care of her. So she figured orphanage guardians were just like that, and she hoped her brothers had found a way to survive them.

 _Anyway_. Back to the point. Dot barely remembered her brothers and it was only the accidental kindness of her guardians that kept their memory alive in her head, like a tattered flag hanging onto its pole by a single thread.

Well, that, and one other thing.

Dot also had a story she told herself, gifted to her by none other than her beloved eldest brother.

She didn't remember why her brother told her and Wakko the story. She remembered being locked up somewhere, and remembered being afraid. She… thought she might have been close to panicking, though she couldn't remember why. She thought Wakko might've been the same.

If that's true, then Yakko was probably trying to calm them. But she could never be sure of her memories from then. They were always fragmented and out of context… she was never positive she hadn’t just made them up. Regardless, one thing she could remember with full clarity was this:

_Yakko held Dot close on his chest, curling around her and bringing Wakko in close. It helped, but Dot's breath still came in quick pants and Wakko hadn't stopped trembling in forever._

_"... Hey…" Yakko whispered. His breath brushed Dot's forehead and she could feel his hand trembling from where he held her. "H-Have I ever told you the story of how you were born?"_

She probably said no. She didn't remember him ever telling her this story before. She didn't remember any of the things he said happened happening. She didn't care, either.

Dot held this story close to her heart. It didn’t tell her anything about her brothers, not really. But every time she recited the words she’d memorized, she felt closer to them, like they were still wrapped around her in a shielding, warm hug.

(It always… hurt… coming out of that place and finding she was alone, but not enough to make herself stop. It was like a tiny chip in her heart every time, but she kept coming back, because it felt like she was actually doing something about their situation. Like, maybe if she told herself this story about her birth enough times, she’d undo the hurt or she’d finally find them. There was some Japanese legend kinda similar to that, right? With some kind of folded bird… cranes, maybe? Which meant she wasn’t the only one who thought if you repeated something enough, the thing you wanted would come true. She may be naive, but at least she’s validated.)

She told herself the story every time she felt down (which was often) or when she was missing them (which was often-er). She was fairly certain her version of the story was different than Yakko’s version, because she wasn’t even three when he’d told her it, and still wasn’t whenever she started memorizing it, but she always pretended they were the original, said by the great Yakkini himself.

(Sometimes, she thought she could even hear his voice at the back of her head when she spoke. She could never be sure until she saw him again (and she _would_ see him again, and Wakko), but she hoped and prayed she was right.)

It was an average day at the orphanage. Dot, at seven-and-a-quarter, was left to her own devices, like always, while the other kids were at school and Leslie and Deb worked on whatever Leslie and Deb worked on.

She was skipping up and down the hall, holding her doll under its armpits. She had just finished singing to it the song she had finally relearned, _For the Dancing and the Dreaming_ , that she knew her parents had danced to Before. ~~Not remembered. Knew. She didn’t remember her parents. Marin really was incredible, helping her relearn the words after the incident last chapter.~~

Now having nothing else to do, she went to an old classic of hers, which was reciting her story. 

Still skipping, Dot began, staring her doll in its button eyes, “‘Once upon a time, a brave knight—’”

“Oh, there she goes again.” The voice came from the room she had just skipped by, hushed and exasperated. Dot halted and turned toward the cracked door questioningly. _Leslie?_ “Really, it _must_ get boring for her, right?”

“You’d think,” Deb responded, not as quiet but twice as frustrated. Deb had always seemed to hate Dot the most of the two of them—Leslie just seemed to not know what to do with her. “I really don’t get it, do you?” There was a pause where Leslie might’ve responded silently and Deb went on, “What is the point of telling that stupid story all the time? Surely she can’t really think those brothers of hers are actually lookin’ for her?”

Dot froze. Her fingers dug into the cloth of her doll.

“Shh!” Leslie scolded, to the surprise of Dot. “Don’t let Angie hear you sayin’ that crap. That’s a li’l harsh, isn’t it?”

“Oh, let her hear,” Deb brushed off, sounding much more in character. “Not my fault the kid’s got her head stuck in the clouds; it’s her own heartbreak waiting to happen.”

“Well, sure, but still…” Leslie mumbled.

“Listen—baseless hope’s never gotten anyone anywhere,” Deb argued. Dot narrowed her eyes with a little pout, feeling a twinge in her chest, because baseless hope was the only thing keeping her going. “It’s better she learn reality before it bites her in the tail.”

Leslie sighed. “... Yeah, okay.”

Dot huffed a little and whipped away from the door. Who needed their approval anyway? Certainly not Dot! She did need to find a more secluded place to recite, though. She didn’t appreciate the color commentary.

Her eyes fell on the bathroom door and she smiled before rushing inside. She pushed the door behind her until it clicked shut. She hesitated, Deb’s words flickering through her mind, before she simply breathed in deeply and let it out. Everything was fine. It didn’t matter what they thought. They didn’t know her brothers. ~~Did she?~~ They didn’t know what they were talking about. ~~Did~~ _ ~~she?~~ _

Whatever.

She pushed off of the door and dragged the little step stool to the sink counter before climbing onto it. She placed her doll on the middle-back of the sink, propped up against the mirror. She opened her mouth to begin and… paused. 

She glanced from her doll up to her own reflection. She hesitated, then slowly pulled her doll from the sink. She placed it delicately on the floor next to the step stool, then straightened up and looked herself in the eye.

“‘Once upon a time,’” she began, the words coming as easily as breathing, “‘a brave knight married a beautiful princess and they had two sons. But they also wanted a daughter.’  
“‘Their sons, too, had begged them so for a sister. When they were asked why a sister, they responded, _We’re the Warner brothers and she’ll be the Warner sister. She’ll complete us_.’” 

Dot’s breath suddenly caught in her throat and she had to really focus on forcing the lump out, breathing deeply and slowly, bent over the sink.

Once her throat stopped aching, she continued, “‘So the king and queen planted a garden _allll_ over the kingdom, and on the first day of spring, every flower in that garden bloomed. The king and queen brought their sons to their beautiful garden and together the four of them searched for their missing member.’” 

_They found you once, they’ll find you again,_ came unbidden into her mind and she glared harshly at her reflection, like it was to blame for the stupid thought. She wasn’t thinking about that right now, she was just telling herself a story. This was supposed to be a happy thing. She was supposed to be remembering her family. That was _all_ this was for, nothing more.

“‘The sons found her first and rushed her to their parents, proclaiming that their darling sister had come from the prettiest flower of all, and their parents agreed. That’s you.’” 

She pointed at the mirror, at her reflection, as if it were herself and she was Yakko, telling the story. 

“‘And so, the knight and his bride, mom and dad, took you home, and every night at bedtime, as you cuddled close to your brothers, your parents would come in and say, _Who’s the cutest girl?_ ” 

As she quoted, Dot leaned forward and nuzzled her nose against the mirror, like Yakko had done Before. 

“And you’d say—’” She pointed at herself. “‘— _Me!_ ’  
“‘And they’d ask—” Another nuzzle, “— _How’d you ever get so cute?_ ’   
“‘And you’d say, _I was born that way!_ ’  
“‘And they’d say, _Tell us your name, young lady!_ ’  
“‘And you’d say, _Angelina buh-buh-buh-duh Warner_ —’” 

She couldn’t help the small smile at her staged fumbling—she vaguely remembered her name being long and tongue-twister-y, but when she’d been transferred here, they’d cut off her name to just _Angelina Warner_ , which is why her guardians insisted on calling her that. 

“‘— _but you can call me Dot!_ ’  
“‘And they’d say, _Can we call ya Dottie?_ ’  
“‘And you’d say, _No. Just Dot. Call me Dottie and ya die!_ ’” 

She smiled further, a fuzzy memory flashing in her mind of when… _someone_ called her that for the first time and she, as a baby, had simply batted them repeatedly in the face. That person had squawked and laughed, she thought. She bet they probably said, _“No Dottie then! I getcha!”_

… Probably. Who knew if that actually happened or if she just wished it did?

… She hoped it was Yakko in that memory. It seemed… she thought it seemed like something he’d do.

She pressed on, “‘And mom and dad and your big bros would laugh and laugh, and they’d _tickle_ you! And you’d laugh too!’” 

Supposedly. She’s not laughing now, though. 

“‘And they’d tuck you in, all snuggled between your brothers, and you’d fall asleep with a great big smile in your heart.’”

She blinked slowly at her reflection, a buzzing silence filling the bathroom now that she’d stopped speaking. It almost felt like she was waiting for something, but she didn’t know what. There was no one else here; if something were to happen, she would have to do it.

She opened her mouth and hesitated, not quite sure what she wanted to say. She bit her lip as she thought.

Then it came to her.

“... ‘And one night, seemingly out of nowhere, though you think they might’ve just felt something off… Your brothers both turned to you. _We love you_ , the eldest said.’   
“‘ _So much_ , the younger added.’  
“‘ _No matter what happens_ , the eldest continued, _never forget that_.’  
“‘ _What’re you goin’ on about?_ you asked but they didn’t explain. They only curled around you once more, clinging onto you like you were gonna disappear at any moment. And you didn’t understand, you couldn’t have, but you knew you f-felt s-o—’”

Dot’s voice suddenly faltered on her and she felt tears rapidly fill her eyes. She tilted her head up and blinked quickly at the ceiling. Once her vision cleared, she pulled herself back down and forced herself to speak, to finish her new addition to the story she loved.

“‘But you knew you felt _so safe_ in their arms and that nothing _bad_ would happen so long as they were just _here_ with you. S-So you just relaxed into their grip and let yourself fall asleep without another thought. A-And when you were torn from Yakko’s hands a week later, you remembered what he said—that he and Wakko loved you no m- _matter_ what. And even four and h-half years later, even if it’s hard to remember sometimes, you still knew that.’” 

Dot sniffled miserably and looked herself firmly in the eye, refusing to let her tears fall.

“‘ _They. Love. You._ Even if they’re gone. Even if they haven’t found you yet. They love you _so much_. You have to believe that. Because if you don’t, if you don’t believe they do, then—’”

Dot paused and dropped her gaze again. She stared at the sink, at its dirty porcelain, at its cracked edges. For a ridiculous moment, she likened her heart to it. She looked back to the mirror.

“‘Because if they don’t, then what are you even doing anymore?’”

Silence again.

.

.

.

This didn’t make her feel better.

.

.

.

Guess she’ll just try again.

“‘Once upon a time—’”

And on and on and on again.

.

.

.

Well, what were you expecting? This was all she had. Sure, her guardians had a point, it _did_ get boring from time to time, but what was she to do? The alternative was forgetting, and she’d done just enough of that, in her very valuable opinion.

Until—and it _would_ be an until, not an _if_ —she was found or found them, she would just have to settle with what she had.

Which was fine, of course. By now, she was quite good at settling.

* * *

Wakko knew he had siblings. He grieved their presence like a missing limb, felt the empty void at his sides every single day of his life. His smart older brother and his darling little sister. Yakko and Dot.

He _knew_ he had siblings.

He just… didn’t know what they looked like.

Which is sort of an exaggeration because he knew, technically, they looked like him. He knew they both had long ears that flopped around with every movement and kinked tails that poked through their clothes. They had bright red noses, black eyes, white faces and hands and feet. _He_ did, so they had to too. He just… couldn’t exactly picture them.

Which led him to where he was now: the bathroom, in front of the single full length mirror.

He stared awkwardly at himself, holding a pair of worn, brown pants that had been given to him along with a bunch of other clothes he never wore.

With a deep breath, Wakko took off his precious hat and pulled off his sweater. He stuffed them in his gag bag before stepping into the pants.

He slowly looked up at the mirror and… deflated. Because he just looked like Wakko-wearing-knock-off-brand-Yakko’s-clothes.

He curled in on himself, feeling stupid. His ears fell against his head as he wrung his hands close to his chest. His eyes burned and his face scrunched up. He furiously rubbed at his eyes, frustration bubbling up in him.

What was he expecting, really? That he’d pull on some pants, take off his hat, and just turn into Yakko? If he did, Wakko wouldn’t even be forgetting his face. What a joke.

Wakko grabbed his ears and yanked on them, trying to get himself to stop thinking about it. He sniffled loudly and looked back up at the mirror as he tugged and tugged.

Then he paused. Blinked. 

His ears, still in his hands, were stretched down by his chest, making them much longer than they normally were. What if he could—

He dipped into his toon powers and willed his ears to stay stretched like that, then let go of his ears. They stayed by his chest, hanging over his shoulders like hair.

Wakko felt a giddy sort of excitement start to fill him. He got to work pulling on his limbs and leaving them stretched out. He stood taller and his arms got longer. He squished his head this way and that, trying to find a shape that resembled the vague silhouette he remembered of Yakko before landing on an oval shape. Then he let his hands fall to his sides as he stared at the final product.

Wakko gaped at the mirror and couldn’t help but shake a little. Because that was his _brother_.

“H—” His breath caught in his throat. “—Hi… Yakko.” He waved a little and his brother waved back.

What if he…?

He pitched his voice up a little and spoke without his accent: “Hey there, brother mine.”

Wakko hesitated, a nervous, wide grin starting to pull on his cheeks. Excitement bubbled up from inside him and he started to bob a little, his arms bent and pressed to his sides with his fists clenched in front of him. 

Why hadn’t he thought to do this before? It wasn’t perfect, because who knew what his brother sounded like now, or what he wore normally, but it was such a good idea! If he was missing his sibs, he could just come in here and see them whenever he wanted!

He cleared his throat and pitched his voice up again, then said, "Gee, bro, what kinda dump did they throw you in?" He folded his arms behind his back and bent at the waist as he talked, acting as if he was examining the space in front of him, which made his brother look like he was examining the rest of the bathroom. Then he stood up straight and gave a carefree shrug. "Well, I guess it could've been worse, yeah? Could have no bathroom at all!"

Wakko giggled a little and queued up his Yakko-lookalike costume. He did a quick change into his sweater, hat, and normal proportions. "Yeah, it's not so bad here," Wakko said normally, shrugging nonchalantly. "It's actually pretty nice here in Acme Falls, even if the orphanage could stand for some upgrades."

In a whirl, he was back to looking and sounding like Yakko. "I hear ya! My orphanage is completely the same! Creaky floors, leaky roof, the whole shebang. Unfortunate, since money is the root of all evil."

Wakko laughed as he changed into himself again. “Thought that was greed?”

Back to Yakko. “And where do you think money comes from?”

Back to himself. “Yeah, okay, I’ll take that L.”

He hit a bit of a lull in their conversation. Yakko would probably continue to tease him, but eventually it’d get old. Yakko wouldn’t milk a conversation topic (because he was allergic to lactose) until it was boring, he’d jump to the next topic without any hesitation. So what was that topic then? 

Wakko thought really hard about what Yakko would do if he was right in front of Wakko right then, what he would say…?

Wait. If it was just the two of them, then Yakko would definitely ask— "Say, brother mine, how do you think our darling sister is doing?"

Oh, this was a mistake.

Quick change. "Doing what?"

He was physically obligated to continue the bit. ‘Yes, and—’ and all that. He wasn’t prepared to act as—

Quick change. “Oh, everyone’s a comedian.” Yakko rolled his eyes. “C’mon, why don’t you bring her out?”

Quick change. “I don’t…” He broke character and looked down at his gag bag questioningly. He didn’t… really have a plan for Dot. He’d thought about acting as her too, of course, but none of his own clothes gave off Dot vibes. And he didn’t want to steal from his friends and roommates, even if he knew he’d return any clothes he took. But the bit wouldn’t go on if he didn’t play as her, so…

He could just grab something from his gag bag—he was quite good at that after all—but what funny thing could he do to get something that vibed with Dot?

Wakko thought hard for a solid minute, before sighing and deciding to just go for it. He stuck his hand into his bag and dug around for a bit, before grabbing onto something and pulling it out.

In his hand was a short, pink skirt. He frowned at it, wondering what was so funny about it. It was just a skirt. His intention was to wear it, so maybe that was it? But what was so funny about a… boy wearing a skirt?

(There was a weird hesitation in his head with calling himself a boy that he didn’t really get, but he also didn’t really care and ended up ignoring it.)

Ultimately, Wakko just shrugged and let the mystery go. It didn’t matter that he didn’t get the joke, as long as he had the thing he needed.

He hoped he was right about her clothes too.

He slid the skirt on and looked in the mirror. Not allowing disappointment to spread through him about how non-Dot-like he looked, he quickly started molding his features until he looked more like what he thought he remembered her looking like. He rounded his head and made his cheek fur curl upward and…

Actually, that looked about it. But… there was something missing. What was it…

… The ears. Yakko and Wakko had their ears free, but Dot had always had hers tied… with a cute flower scrunchy ~~like mom~~.

Wakko reached into his gag bag and pulled out a flower scrunchy (which also didn’t make sense, humor wise), then immediately tied it around his ears.

He let out a little breath. "Hi, Dottie."

He narrowed his eyes at the mirror and with the highest pitch, most girlish voice he could manage, he said, "I'll kill ya, Wakko." He snorted a little, before saying, "Oh really? This is my voice? You couldn't have at least _tried_ to find something that fit me a little better?"

Quick change to himself. "I'm sorry, Dot! I'm no good with voices!"

Quick change to her. "Uh huh, you say as you have a near perfect _Yakko_ impression!"

Quick change to Yakko. "Uh uh uh, sis! _Nobody_ can encompass the brilliance that is my bea- _u_ -tiful baritone."

Her. "Four whole years and you're _still_ full of yourself. Thought orphan life woulda mellowed you out, but _noooo_."

Himself. "I can believe it. No one has a bigger head than our brother."

Him. "I resent that! My head is perfectly normal sized!"

Her. "Not with that ego, it isn’t."

Him. "Ha, ha, funny. At least _I_ don't sound like the When Will You Learn That Actions Have Consequences Vine Kid!"

Her. " _Gaaasp!_ You _know_ I don't have any control over that! Wakko doesn't have any clue what I sound like now!"

Wakko’s breath caught and his excited mood immediately crashed and burned around him.

He could feel a wave of grief rising in him, like a growing wave, but before he could do anything else, a knock on the door startled him.

“Wakko?” Abigail’s voice sounded from the other side. He looked toward it, suddenly aware of how loud he was probably being. “Wakko, are you in there?”

“Um,” he stalled. He hesitated, glancing in the mirror again, before going to the door and opening it.

He met Abigail’s worried gaze and smiled reassuringly, saying, “Yeah, I—” He hesitated again before glancing over his shoulder at the mirror and seeing his sis—… seeing himself, dressed like what he thought his sister looked like, staring back. “Was just… talkin’ to myself.”

“Okay…” Abby started. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

Wakko blinked away the burn in his eyes and turned back to his guardian. He gave her a wordless nod.

She responded with her own nod, before giving him a little smile. “I like your flower,” she commented.

Wakko lifted his hand absently and brushed his fingers over the fake petals. He let a smile pull at his lips, barely remembering a musical giggle and tiny, grabbing hands.

“Thanks,” he said. “Me too.”

He changed back into his sweater and put the skirt away, but he kept the flower around his ears. Something about it brought him comfort, and after a moment of contemplation, he pulled on the pants he’d worn to look like Yakko, cuffing the excess at his ankles. He didn’t match and he wasn’t really used to wearing pants all the time, but it strangely… helped. It felt like he was a little closer to them.

(And anytime anyone asked him about the flower, he just said he wanted to wear it. If anyone was especially rude about it and Abby was within hearing distance, she’d cut in and say, “They can wear whatever they want.”

He didn’t know why she was calling him ‘they’, but he appreciated the effort.

… And he couldn’t be sure, but the next time he went into the bathroom to pretend to talk to his siblings again, he thought he might’ve heard Abby stopping anyone from bothering him. And he appreciated that too.)

* * *

Mai was quiet as the three of them—her, May, and Gracie—walked away from the big schoolhouse after dropping all the kids off.

She could tell her coworkers were mildly concerned based on the glances she’d been getting the whole time, but she wasn’t up for the strained small talk they always shared while walking through the city. (It was always somber when they were by themselves, especially in the city—knowing what was going to happen tomorrow, on Wednesday, like always didn’t help). Besides, she had a much more important thing to be thinking about.

Mai had been so happy when Yakko called her _mom_ that morning. It had filled her to bursting with joy, that he trusted her enough to see her in that light, that maybe he was truly healing after the horrible thing he’d gone through. She was used to being called that by her kids, just as Auntie and Gracie were as well, but to be gifted that title by him, as hurt and traumatized as he was, was the best present she could have received.

And she still was happy, make no mistake. It had just caused her to think a little harder about his predicament.

He had turned ten about half a year ago, and it’s been about three months since the fourth year anniversary of his stay here. Despite the time, he hadn’t seemed to change that much, though he was notably more social and less prone to depressive spells. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he was a normal child, just like any other in their orphanage.

But Mai knew. She knew how he still compulsively took food if he thought no one was looking. She saw how he sometimes stared out at the towering wall like it was a puzzle for him to solve. She knew he’d never be truly, fully happy here, if his family was still out there somewhere.

She was scared of what he would do if he found they weren’t there anymore. It’d been such a long time—and Wakko and Dot had been so young… If he went out and, despite all the odds, managed to find the two of them, would they be the siblings he remembered? Would they remember him? Would they even be there for him to find?

She didn’t know.

But… what she _did_ know was that the longer they sat there, waiting for a supposed _right time_ to get him out, the more likely Yakko would find heartbreak on the other side.

And what kind of mother would she be if she let him walk to his death like that?

She was terrified of the consequences of deliberately breaking Salazar’s rules, but… she was more afraid of being the reason behind Yakko’s broken heart.

Mai made up her mind. She didn’t care about her fear. She didn’t care about the guards or the restrictions or _Salazar_. She was going to get her boy out of here and to his family if it killed her.

—

_Mai had family in the city. Parents. They weren’t on the best of terms; they thought she should be doing more with her life than taking care of a bunch of other people’s children. They didn’t see how she got any joy out of raising kids that would just “leave her behind”, either by adoption or by growing out of the system. Mai didn’t see how this was any different than having a kid herself._

_Regardless of how they felt about her career, she did love them. And she was certain they loved her—she was their only daughter, how could they not?_

_So when she formed her plan to sneak Yakko out, she thought of them. She wouldn’t be able to go back, because once the people in charge found out Yakko was gone, they’d go after Auntie and Gracie, which was the last thing she wanted. She had a plan for that, to take all of the blame off of them, and if they knew what was good for them and the kids, they’d follow through. Though, it wouldn’t be like they’d be able to protest—she and Yakko would be long gone and their only option would be to follow through._

_But she wouldn’t be able to see her parents either; at least not until Salazar was overthrown or she was somehow acquitted from her treason, both of which were unlikely. She didn’t just want to leave without saying anything. They deserved more than that._

_So… she wrote them a letter._

—

Yakko burst out of the school doors and raced as fast as his little toon feet could go to his guardians. He nearly ran into them, skidding to a stop and blowing up a dust cloud. His guardians coughed and waved away the dust, and when it settled, he was there, bouncing with his fists clenched in front of his chest.

“Didja finish it?” Yakko immediately asked once he could see Mai.

There was a flash of confusion, but before Yakko’s excitement could dull, her eyes lit up with realization. “Oh! No, sorry, bud.” Yakko stopped bouncing in shock.

“Whaaaaat?” He was really looking forward to showing off his new look to his class- and roommates!

Mai gave him a sympathetic smile. “Your pants’re almost done!” she promised. “I just got a late start because of some… work I was doing. They’ll be ready for you tomorrow.”

“Fiiiine,” Yakko groaned, feeling put out, but then Mai laughed a little and patted him on the head, and how was he supposed to stay upset when his mom did that?

The other kids caught up with them and some of the more energetic ones were bouncing or flapping their hands like Yakko would, going on and on about their day. Their guardians all nodded along and laughed at the jokes and stories.

Once everyone was accounted for, they started the long trek back to the orphanage. The older kids held onto the slightly younger kids and the slightly younger kids held onto the youngest kids. Auntie led the way, Gracie kept track of the kids in the middle, and Mai took up the rear. It would’ve been more efficient, less stressful, if they’d had more help, but it wasn’t like they hadn’t tried. Over the years they’d had a lot of newbies join the orphanage staff, just… 

Well, inexplicably, they’d eventually _go away on a trip_ or _get a better opportunity in another city_ , as Mai or Auntie or Gracie would tell them. (Never mind that the capital was the best place to get a job, muttered some of the older teens). It was always abrupt, with no warning. Sometimes they even stayed a few months before suddenly vanishing on their vacation or whatever. Yakko thought it was weird, and none of it really added up, but he didn't know enough to raise any objections about it. He didn't know. 

Regardless, they all never saw those people again.

—

_It didn’t say much. Just a basic explanation, that she was leaving and she was taking a boy with her, and that due to the restrictions on that boy, she probably wouldn’t be back for a while. She told them she loved them, but that she had to do this, because she couldn’t stand to watch the boy get hurt any longer. She signed her name, took it to the communal mailing area, and left it in their mailbox. She didn’t expect a response and she didn’t need one. She just wanted them to know what she was doing, so they wouldn’t worry._

_That was supposed to be the end of it._

—

Flashforward to that night, and all the kids were getting ready for bed. Yakko was comfortably tired after reluctantly finishing his homework and making up skits with some of the other theatre-obsessed kids. (It was still weird interacting with them after spending the last few years as a lone wolf, but… a good weird. He hadn’t realized how lonely he was.)

After Auntie declared it was bedtime, he went with the crowd of kids up the stairs and got ready for bed. He climbed under the covers and watched as Auntie, Gracie, and Mai made their way to each kid to wish everyone a personal goodnight. 

He smiled up at Mai once she reached him, something she returned softly. She sat on the edge of his bed and leaned over him, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. “Love you, bud.”

“Love you, too,” he murmured, pulling the covers up to his mouth and giving her a glittering, happy look.

“G’night, Yakky. See you tomorrow.” She gave him a little, knowing wink and went onto the next kid, and Yakko spent the rest of the time before he fell asleep wondering what that look meant.

—

_A scream woke Yakko that night._

_He bolted upright and tried to get his sleep-addled mind running so he could figure out what was happening. He felt a bit of deja vu, flashes of a dark, damp cell and the shaking, warm weight of his brother and sister laying against him appearing in his mind._

_Another wordless commotion happened, startling some of the other light-sleepers awake. A few of them murmured to each other, wondering what was happening._

_Yakko, waking up enough to realize something was wrong, slipped from his bed and started on his way to the door._

_Another door slammed shut below him and Yakko started walking quicker, anxiety pooling in his gut._

_Before he could fully reach the stairwell, however, the door opened itself and Auntie stood there, holding a light. She made eye contact with him and for a split second, she had the most heartbroken look on her face, before she put on a reassuring smile. He could’ve sworn she looked near tears._

_“Hey, kids!” Auntie said with hushed cheer in her voice, looking around the room at the kids that sat up. “Sorry about all the racket. It wasn’t anything y’all need to worry about.” She looked Yakko in the eye again. “Just go back to sleep, alright?”_

_And Yakko… he knew something was up. There was no way that was the end of it. He was big suspicious of the whole thing._

_But… he also_ really _wanted to go back to sleep. So…_

_He nodded and turned to go further back into the beds-room. Auntie stayed in the doorway until all the kids were back in bed, laying under their covers. “G’night, kids,” she whispered. She got a few mumbled responses and then she closed the door behind her._

_Yakko blinked sleepily at the closed door, curiosity swirling in his head before he succumbed to his exhaustion again._

—

Every Wednesday, the kids had school at the orphanage.

It was apparently a new schedule that began around the time Yakko was put there. Every other weekday, they would all walk as a unit to the schoolhouse in the middle of the city, but on Wednesdays they all stayed cramped in the common room of Aunt May's. They didn't really have a good explanation for why, but none of the kids minded not needing to trudge the long way to school in the morning and afternoon for one day, so most of them let it be.

Yakko thought the older kids, the ones only a few years to adulthood, knew. He could see them looking worried or melancholy or even _sick_ every Wednesday morning. Every time he asked, though, they refused to tell him, saying that they didn't know anything. It drove Yakko mad, but he supposed he had to live with it, at least until he was old enough to be in the know too.

Today was Wednesday. Yakko woke up to loud thunder and the sound of pouring rain, and took a second to remember what both of those things were. Then, reluctantly, he pulled himself up, dressed into the same denim overalls he’d worn the day before (Mai still hadn’t given him his pants back), and made his way to the kitchen with the rest of the kids.

They all lined up and Auntie served them warm cinnamon apple oatmeal. They were given glasses of water by Gracie, and were supposed to be greeted by Mai, only… she wasn’t there.

Yakko blinked his tired eyes a few times, thinking that he was somehow missing her, but no, she wasn’t there. He turned to Gracie and asked, “Where’s Mai?”

She gave him a brittle smile, her eyes shining, and said, “Oh, Mai had something come up today and won’t be in.”

Yakko glanced behind her at one of the windows, which showed a grey, gloomy, rainy day, and didn’t believe that for a second. But he was holding up the line, so he simply nodded and walked out to the common room.

He was waved over to a table with some of the other theatre kids that had begun the process of adopting him into their group. He smiled a little and acquiesced, sitting at one of the free chairs.

He couldn’t quite make himself participate in the conversation, his mind too cloudy with concern, but the other kids attempted to include him, which he appreciated. 

The noise made him feel better, too; a little less like his brain was going to suffocate him with anxiety. Yakko let himself drift as he mechanically lifted his spoon to his mouth over and over, allowing the other kids’ conversation wash over him.

He snapped out of it an indiscernible amount of time later when his spoon thumped against the mostly-empty wooden bowl. He shook his head to clear the static and scraped what was left of the oatmeal into his mouth. Most of the other kids were done as well and were milling about while they waited on the rest of the kids to finish eating. They’d all start school soon.

Yakko picked up his bowl and stood. Some of the other kids saw him stand and did the same, smiling at him as they did. Together, they all took their dirty dishes to the washing area and deposited them there. 

They left the kitchen together and were starting to walk back to the common room, when hushed voices caught Yakko’s ear. He paused and turned his head to look across the hall. The door that led to the matrons’ bedroom was slightly ajar.

“Yakko?” 

He startled and turned to the other kids, who had looked back at him when they realized he wasn’t following. “Um,” he hesitated, his eyes darting to the door. He looked back to the kids. “You go on ahead! I just realized I… forgot something, in my trunk.” He gestured behind him with his thumb.

“Oh! Okay…” one of them said.

“We’ll see you in there, then,” another said. “Sit with us?”

Yakko smiled genuinely, a happy, excited feeling swirling around his heart. “Yeah!” he responded, and the other kids went on their way.

Once they were further down the hall, he crept to the opposite wall as quick as he could and pressed himself beside the matrons’ door. He tilted his ear to hear better.

“—deserve to know!”

_Gracie._

“And what do you suppose we tell them?” _Auntie._ “They’re just _kids_ , they can’t understand why these things happen.”

“I _know_ , but everyone loved her, we can’t keep lying to them.” Loved who? Are they talking about—? “Yakko especially—!” 

He startled at his name as Auntie cut Gracie off, “I know! I know…”

“Mai is the one he trusts the most, he literally called her _mom_ yesterday. It would break him if he thought she just _left_ ,” Gracie argued.

Mai. They’re talking about _Mai._ What were they saying? That she left? No, no no no, she couldn’t leave! He needed her! He trusted her! He—!

“And you think knowing what _actually_ happened wouldn’t hurt any less?”

Yakko could almost hear Gracie’s flinch. “... No.” The fire returned to her voice. “But knowing she didn’t want to go might make it easier.” Auntie sighed and Gracie continued, “He already blames himself for what happened to his siblings, he doesn’t need this on his conscience, too.”

“... I’ll think about it,” Auntie said, voice still hushed. “In the meantime, we carry on as usual. Let’s hope some more people saw those Help Wanted signs…”

In a daze, Yakko pushed himself from the wall and walked back down to the common room. Everyone had finally finished eating and had cleaned up the space, so now they were just waiting on their two matrons to come in so they could begin school. They arrived shortly after Yakko did, pulling in the big chalkboard of theirs and handing out everyone’s slate boards. 

And while Yakko usually loved learning (even if he wasn’t really built for big classrooms full of kids; he learned better one-on-one), he was very much _not_ feeling it today.

What was he supposed to do without Mai? He was counting on her help in finding his sibs. She gave him _hope_. She’d promised him she’d get him out of here so he could find his family again. She wouldn’t break that, would she?

Of course not! It’s a promise! You can’t break promises!

_You did._

He thought he was over that already. 

_‘Course not._

Well, that’s different anyway! Like Mai said before, it was that stupid Salad Bar that took his sibs from him, not Yakko! Yakko did everything he could! Mai said so! Mai wouldn’t lie to him!

And… and what else did they say? That Mai didn’t want to leave? That she was forced to? That meant she’d be here if she could be! So, Yakko just had to find her and bring her back and everything would be okay again!

~~Well, not completely okay, but close enough. It’d be _actually_ okay once Wakko and Dot were at his sides again, where they belonged.~~

Yakko waited until the lunch break to make his move. (He was hoping the rain would stop, or at least pause, and luckily, it did). After he finished eating (making a show of eating slower and looking sick while doing so), he approached Gracie all curled in and holding his stomach. “Gracie?” he called, sounding every bit a sad, sick ten-year-old.

Gracie turned to him at her name and gasped. “Oh, honey, are you alright?” She knelt to his level and gently rested the back of her hand against his forehead. “You don’t look so good.”

“I don’ _feel_ so good,” he moaned. “Can—Can I go lay down, for the rest of the day?”

Gracie smiled sympathetically and shifted her hand so her palm rested on the top of his head before gently petting him. “Sure, sweetheart, get some rest, and we’ll see if you’re feelin’ better tonight, yeah?”

Yakko nodded. He went to walk past her, planning on slipping into the kitchen and escaping through one of the windows in there, but Gracie stood up and began walking beside him. 

He paused and said, “Um, y-you don’t have to come with me…”

“Nonsense!” she replied. “I’ll get you all tucked into bed, make sure you’re comfy.”

“Oh, thanks…” This put quite the damper on his plan…

The two of them walked to the beds-room and once there, Yakko climbed into his bed. Gracie tucked him in like she said she would and smiled at him. “D’you need anything else? Water, or something?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Just wanna sleep…”

Gracie nodded. “Alright, sweetie. I’ll come check on you after school, alright?”

Yakko nodded a little and watched as Gracie wished him a good nap and left. Then he threw the covers off and scampered over to one of the many windows lining the room. He had a new plan! The windows weren’t made to open, just to let light in, so there was no actual way out of the room besides the door. However, Yakko was a toon, so even if there isn’t an exit, Yakko could _make_ one.

… In theory.

Admittedly, he didn’t have much official toon training. He knew the basics, and he could do a bunch of tricks just like the other toon kids, it just took more focus and energy (the former of which can be… difficult to maintain). His birth parents had started teaching him when he was five, but then dad got sick and there was that whole mess with Tictockia happening and then dad _died_ and the castle was invaded and he was dumped here and no one was allowed to continue teaching him and… Anyway.

The point is, he didn’t know much about it. But that was fine! Who cared about stupid things like _technique_ and _logic_ when he had natural comedic genius?

After all, as long as it’s funny, toons can do _anything!_

“Okay,” Yakko whispered to himself, jumping from foot to foot and shaking out his hands. He rotated his neck, then spun around his head for good measure. “Okay okay okay. Here we go.” He took a deep breath in. “Gee, it would be quite funny if I slipped through the small gap between the window and the wall and got all smooshed and flat like a pancake on the other side.” Then he took a running leap at the wall.

_Thump._

Ow.

He stayed suspended flat against the wall for a few moments before slowly sliding down it until he was face first on the ground. 

“Oh sure, _that_ one works,” he grumbled.

He quickly got to his feet. “Okay, okay, walk it off, no big deal.” He took in and released three deep breaths before repeating his set-up before. Then he rushed the wall again, jumping and holding his arms out like he was diving into water.

The tips of his middle fingers _tinked_ against the wall, like he was hitting a spoon against a wine glass. He stayed hovering in the air for another few moments before his body shattered like glass and fell to the floor.

With the camera still lined up from the shot of him in the air, Yakko stood up with a pouting glare at the wall. He brushed back his ears.

“Okay. Okay. Okayokayokay. You’ve got this,” he muttered to himself. He took a slower deep breath and slowly let it out. “Just imagine… an audience… They’ll see you pop under the window, then shift to outside, where you’ll slowly pull yourself out… you’ll be a paper version of yourself and they’ll laugh and then you’ll pop back into shape and it’ll be _funny_. Imagine an audience… _Imagine_ … an _audience_ …”

Yakko backed up to the opposite side of the room and stared down the window. He glared at it and imagined the audience was looking at it too. They held their breath as he stared down the wall, willing him to make it. They want their _third time’s a charm_ trope to be fulfilled _more_ than their _rule of thirds_ trope. And he’ll give it to them. He’s _got this_.

Yakko took another deep breath and _went for it_. He sprinted forward and thought of the audience cheering for him and he _jumped—!_

For a second, there’s darkness. He wasn’t quite sure where he was, but then he started inching forward. _Did I…?_

Light bloomed in his vision and he saw wet grass and dirt below him. He kept moving forward and eventually started bending up. He was in the alley between the side of the orphanage and the neighboring building. He couldn’t move anything but his eyes as his body automatically shifted forward inch by inch. Soon he was curved towards the sky, which was cloudy and dull and gloomy.

With a distinctive _pop!_ , Yakko drifted to the ground. The grass tickled his face for a few moments before his body regained its definition.

He laid there, gasping and groaning softly. Those toon acts took more out of him than he expected…

But! He did it! He got out! He couldn’t wait to tell Mai!

Yakko heaved his aching body into a sitting position and leaned against the wall of the orphanage, panting heavily. He tilted his head to the end of the alley, where he still saw people walking to and fro.

He frowned a little as he remembered his first escapade into town alone. People had noticed him immediately and the guards had been on him in an instant. Admittedly, this time he wasn’t trying to leave the city, but they didn’t know that. They’d just throw him back in the orphanage, no matter what he’d told them. What could he do then…

… Well, he could try his gag bag.

Yakko winced a little. His type of comedy was more verbal. He’d barely managed to squeeze himself through a tiny gap, and that had taken everything out of him. Wakko was the one who seemed to have the gag bag prowess, and he’d only been four at the time! He ~~barely~~ remembered his birth mom complimenting the stuff Wakko could pull from his gag bag, saying she hadn’t been nearly as proficient at it at Wakko’s age. Like he’d thought earlier, his toon training had come to screeching halt after things got crazy, politically.

Yakko shook his head. _C’mon, you won’t get anywhere with that attitude! Why not give it the ole college try?_

It wouldn’t… It _probably_ wouldn’t hurt… 

Yakko reached behind him, into his hammerspace and pulled out his gag bag. Now he just needed to pull out a disguise…

He thought for a few moments before he thought of the perfect object. It was a classic gag, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to pull. He turned his head away, closed his eyes, and reached into his sack.

 _G’night everybody—oh!_ He got something!

His hand closed around a thin piece of metal. He took a deep breath and believed the disguise inside was real and _pulled!_

He went boneless against the wall as he felt his energy dip. Still, it worked; in his hand was a pair of glasses with a fake nose and black mustache, with matching eyebrows. As long as it’s funny, nobody’ll know it’s him!

Yakko slipped the glasses onto his face and slowly pulled himself to his feet. He was a little shaky, but he would be okay. He’s got a mom to save! All he had to do now was figure out where to find her!

… Hm. Maybe he should’ve thought this through more.

No matter! He’d think about it now!

Auntie and Gracie had said that Mai _couldn’t_ come to the orphanage, meaning she was probably being held somewhere. The only people that would want to ruin everything for everyone would be Salad Bar’s men, so, uhhhhhhh.

Oh! The dungeons! That’s gotta be it! Where would that be… 

Well, he supposed he could just ask for directions… 

Okay, he’d thought about it! Now he could keep going!

Yakko went to the end of the alley and caught the attention of the first person he saw: a man dressed in denim overalls, a white undershirt, black boots, and a straw hat. “Yes, hello!” Yakko greeted cheerily, pitching his voice down to sound older. “Hello, good sir!”

The man blinked at him, confused. Yakko only smiled and waited for his response. He didn’t wait long.

“Uh. Hi?” the man responded, scratching at his beard stubble. He looked like he was trying to figure out a puzzle on Yakko’s face. “How can I help ya?”

“Thanks for asking, friendo!” Yakko said, walking up close to the man. He stretched his arm up and around the man’s shoulders and forced the man to bend over to Yakko’s level. “Why, I say those are some mighty fine pants there! I see you’re a man of taste!”

“Oh, uhhhh, thanks!” the man responded, a pleased smile pulling at his lips and his cheeks blushing pink.

“Why, you’re very welcome!” Yakko said. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know where the dungeons are, would ya? I seem to have gotten myself all turned around!” He laughed goodheartedly.

“Oh, sure!” the man said. “Just, uh, keep going down this way until you reach the main square, then make a right down the widest path. There should be a sign for it!”

“Wonderful!” Yakko patted the man’s chest. “You’re a real hero to me, sir! Thanks a lot!”

“Uhh, no problem!” 

Yakko waved to the man and set off on his way. He kept to the middle of the road to hide in the crowd, on the off chance someone recognized him. He wasn’t too worried about it, though; his disguise was foolproof! He’d already tested it on that man from before!

Yakko snickered at his joke as he continued down the street. There were quite a few people out and working, and all walking in the same direction as Yakko. The further into the city he got, the more people that entered the main street. It was reminiscent of the steadily growing traffic as one drove closer to an interstate or highway.

And speaking of, through the bodies Yakko could see his next obstacle rapidly approaching: the bustling, workday crowd rushing in the center of the city.

He’d obviously underestimated what it was like in the middle of a busy crowd with no buffer. He’d been out with either Mai or the huge group of kids before, but he’d never been out alone. And since he didn’t have the cover of an adult or being Very Obviously A Kid With Other Kids, nobody seemed to care where they were shoving and pushing.

Yakko was very quickly swept away with the crowd, being pushed this way and that. He was the perfect height for elbows to the face, too, of which he took multiple. He stumbled his way down the street, no longer knowing exactly where he was going. He wasn’t even sure if he was following the directions the man had given him.

He _might_ have bitten off more than he could chew.

(He was pleasantly surprised the glasses stayed on his nose the whole time, not even budging. He supposed the whole _getting lost in a crowd and pushed around_ could be funny in some circles, but still. Small mercies, he guessed.)

Yakko tried to ignore the anxiety building in his stomach, but it was quickly overcoming him. He couldn’t see anything past the tall crowd of adults walking to and fro, and he couldn’t tell where he was anymore. He didn’t know if he was closer or farther from where he needed to be. He didn’t know how to get out and he didn’t know how to fix this. He was completely stuck.

He halted immediately, anxiety locking up his limbs, but before he could do anything else, someone shoved into his back _hard_.

Yakko flew forward, bursting from the crowd into an open space with a shout of, “ _Move it!_ ” following him.

He tumbled to the ground, landing in a large puddle and knocking the glasses from his face. He laid stunned, shivering in the cold water, for a few moments before slowly pulling his body into a sitting position on his knees. He shook the water from his fur before reaching for his disguise, grimacing at the aches blooming around his body.

He saw himself in the wavy reflection of the puddle. He looked a little like a wet puppy, if he's honest. He was getting deja vu—the whole thing reminded him of the second time he’d tried to escape. He didn’t know why that gave him a bad feeling.

He went to put the glasses back on his face as he sat up, when he noticed something that made him pause.

About ten or so feet in front of him was a wooden stage, it seemed. He vaguely recalled it from his few escapades into town before—Mai refused to answer him when he asked about it, so he just assumed that it must be used for some kind of performance, because what else would you use a stage for?

Yakko’s eye then naturally drew up a little and he saw limp, hanging feet.

Everything stilled around him. A drop of water fell onto his nose from the sky, the only warning before the rain started up again, though he paid it no mind. Horror crept through him as he slowly looked up further, his brain slowly comprehending what he was seeing.

The bare feet led to legs clothed in nightwear that tickled Yakko’s memory. 

_No._

They lead his eyes to a torso with limp arms hanging on either side clothed unmistakably.

_No._

There was long blonde hair blowing gently over Her shoulders—

_No._

Yakko’s heart thudded in his chest and his ink rushed through his ears and he felt like he was falling and falling and falling as his gaze followed the familiar hair up and up before landing on a familiar—

The glasses slipped from his fingers and as they clattered to the ground, time just… stopped.

The rain poured around him, but he didn’t hear it, didn’t feel it.

There was… nothing.

Just Yakko and Her.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look away.

He was frozen in that moment of realization.

And there was just darkness around him.

The world outside of them just didn’t exist. 

…

Nothing went through his head. 

There were no words.

No jokes. 

Nothing he could add.

Nothing he could say.

Nothing he could fix.

There was just… nothing.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

An eternity or a second or something in between later, he heard something.

It was muffled, like he was beneath dozens of blankets or under water ~~and **_suffocating_**~~. He felt his ears quirk a little to try and catch it, and then he felt a hand brush his shoulder a split second before he saw another familiar face enter his field of vision. 

His brain couldn’t process them. They were making aggressive eye contact with him and he could see their mouth moving, forming a familiar word over and over. He felt their hands cupping his face, felt their thumbs brushing through his wet fur. 

_Wet…?_

Sure enough, he could feel his fur clumping and matting with water, especially under his eyes. That and their touch was slowly but surely bringing him back. The ringing in his ears was dissipating and he could hear snippets of their words.

_“...ak….”_

_“...eathe Y….”_

_“...kko!”_

_“Can you…”_

_“Yakko!”_

He snapped back into himself with a gasping, shaky, aching breath. He was panting and heaving, and he gripped the wrists of Auntie tightly, staring desperately at her like simply doing so would take all the pain away. Fear and anguish and _hurt_ swirled in him, and a sob wracked through his body.

“Hey, hey, shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Auntie was murmuring, uncaring of the rain that soaked them to the bone. Her fingers ran through his fur and thumbs brushed away any tears that dripped from his eyes. She filled up his entire field of view, blocking out any and everything else.

Yakko’s body was bobbing up and down with his heaving breaths and Auntie was matching his movement, trying to get on his wavelength. “Hey, yeah, shhh, I’m right here, everything’s gonna be okay, just breathe…”

He shook his head and shut his eyes tight. He couldn’t get a good breath in, it just came and went and came and went and he was dying he couldn’t breathe he was gonna die and Mai wasn’t here to help why wasn’t she here why did she _leave_ , it hurt so much he was gonna die he was gonna die he was gonna die die die _die_ —

He felt something cold suddenly press into his neck and it shocked him enough that he was able to get a hold on his spiraling thoughts. His breath hitched and he breathed and choked, and the longer the cold thing touched him and began dripping cold liquid down his neck, different than the rain water, he could feel himself coming back. Auntie was still murmuring encouragement to him, staring him in the eye with a shiny gaze and helping ground him with her constant touch.

Eventually, he was able to match his breathing with the steady motions of Auntie, and both of them slowly bobbed together as they slowly breathed in unison.

When it was clear he’d stopped freaking out, Auntie brushed his fringe back and cupped his jaw, laughing wetly. “There you are!” she said, relieved and fakely cheerful.

“H—” Yakko’s voice caught around the lump in his throat as his eyes flickered from her to the person kneeling beside her—Gracie, who held a melting piece of ice in her hand. She was crying and just as soaked as them. “I-I—” He looked back to Auntie for a moment before beginning to tilt his head to the side, eyes flickering to try and see behind her—

“Hey now, none of that,” Auntie murmured, following his movement and keeping her face completely in his field of vision. “You don’t need to see that again.”

“But—” Yakko’s voice cracked, soft and heartbroken. The image of Her flashed behind his eyes and he let out a broken, keening noise, his eyes overflowing once more. “M- _Momma_ …!”

“I know, baby, I know,” Auntie whispered. A tear dripped down her cheek. “C’mere…” She shifted one of her hands so it cupped the back of his head and she gently guided his face into her collar. Her other arm wrapped around his back, hugging him tightly to her body as she began to rock from side to side.

His hands came up and grabbed Auntie’s shirt, weakly at first, before he clutched at the fabric like a lifeline. “Momma… _momma_ —!” he babbled, words garbled and wet. “Please, momma—c-come back, please come back, don’ _leave_ again… Momma…!”

“It’s okay, baby, shhh,” she murmured. “It’s okay, it’ll all be okay… Just rest now, alright? Just rest…”

As he let out another sob, he heard Gracie whisper, “Should I…?”

He felt Auntie nod against his head and a moment later something pricked him sharply in the arm. He jolted in surprise, choking on his breath, but Auntie kept a tight hold on him, keeping him from flailing about.

Immediately, he began feeling lethargic and tired. He went limp in Auntie’s arms as she shushed him and pleaded for him to simply _rest_.

As he was slipping away, he wetly murmured another, “ _Momma_ …”

Then… darkness.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎶one of these things is not like the other! one of these things just doesn't belong.🎶
> 
> ... All joking aside, I _would_ apologize, but this has been the plan since I introduced Mai, and I've been hinting at it since then too, so I'm not really that sorry. She was actually supposed to die in the chapter she was introduced in, but Yakko's section was getting too long so I moved it. This ended up making her death much more painful, and for _that_ I will apologize, but... not for actually doing it asgasdgd
> 
> Having said that, to everyone who declared their undying love for Mai in one way or another... I'm so sorry agasdgasgsd


	5. Depresso Espresso

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yakko mourns. Wakko picks up drawing. Dot misspeaks.
> 
> Or, revisiting old grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the title _was_ just gonna be the working title until I came up with a better one, but... well, what could possibly be better than that?
> 
> more [fanart!!!!!](https://aliens-on-neptune-art.tumblr.com/post/644956791880515584/you-know-i-dont-have-any-control-over-that) thank you so much!!!
> 
> also.... have fun :)
> 
> tw: _very_ depressive thoughts in the first section

Yakko slowly blinked his eyes open an indeterminable amount of time later. (A brief flicker of a joke passed through his head, a deflecting _we’ve gotta stop meeting like this_ to the ceiling, but it just made him feel worse for attempting humor in a situation like this).

It felt like it took every ounce of his energy to even keep his eyes open, like there were weights pulling down on his eyelids. In fact, it felt like weights were strapped to every part of his body—his legs, his arms, his hands and feet, even his head felt ten times as heavy. And, with his memories of his last conscious minutes (or seconds or hours) flickering to the forefront of his mind, it wasn't hard to know why.

But… well, that couldn't be right. Surely, it was just a nightmare, nothing more. There was no way that happened. Mai wasn't… Of _course_ she was still… She couldn't be… _ahem_. The heavy weights holding him down were just remnants of his horrible dream. The vice around his heart was the same.

That had to be it, and nothing else.

He stared blankly, at the ceiling above him. His nightmare must've taken a lot out of him—he could hardly bear to even think of moving.

There was a sigh off to the side and Yakko slowly turned his head to face it. He saw Auntie sitting there with reddened eyes and damp hair, looking about ten years older than she had before.

He wondered if his own grief had aged him, or if he looked every bit the scared, anguished ten-year-old he was.

_What grief?_ he thought immediately after, with a broken kind of desperation, _What fear? What anguish? Everything's fine, I don't know why she looks like that, I—_

“Y’know,” she started softly, looking off into the far distance. “I really wish you hadn’t seen that.”

A lump swelled in his throat at the direct mention of The Thing He'd Been Denying, and it was like seeing it all over again. It felt like a cold bucket of water pouring over him again. His limbs locked and he felt truly frozen, dread seeping into every corner of his being.

So it wasn't a nightmare, then. It was real. Mai was… she wasn't…

For some reason, he felt like laughing. Or crying. Or both. He settled on neither.

He meant to tell some joke to Auntie, to make a funny quip about the feeling being mutual, to yak the way he was born to do, but he could scarcely gather the energy to open his eyes, let alone open his mouth and force words out. So he just stared at her, blankly.

Auntie blinked and her eyes refocused. She met his gaze and, had he not been staring directly at her, he wouldn’t have seen her slight wince or the heartbreak in her eyes.

What did she see when she looked at him? What could have caused the normally composed, controlled Aunt May to react that way upon meeting his eye? He didn’t think he wanted to know.

After another moment of hesitation, she whispered, "I'm… sorry I couldn't protect you from that. It…" She laughed once, bitterly. "It's barely enough for Grace 'n I to bear, let alone a kid. Let alone _her_ kid."

He closed his eyes against a wave of grief. Before, being referred to as Her Kid had always sent bubbling happiness coursing through him, but now…

It seemed the world couldn’t let him have anything. Not even good memories were safe from its corruption.

"Y’know…" Auntie continued softly after a beat. "I know it… hurts, more than you can bear, but… it's proof of how much she meant to you." He barely managed to pry his eyes open again, silently asking for clarification. She smiled, a sad, broken thing. "It's… Grief, it's just… it's persistent and agonizing, but it's proof of just how much you loved her. How much we _all_ loved her.. Tha's—Tha’s all grief is, really… Love, persevering through death.” She let out a tiny breath and let her gaze drift away. “It… That’s always helped me through it, and it ain’t right that you have to go through it at all, but maybe that can bring you some sort of… catharsis.”

Yakko could understand her thought process, and the thought of this pain inside him simply being his love for Mai was romantic, but… 

Auntie huffed a small laugh. “I can see on your face it didn’t really help.” Well. It wasn’t Yakko’s fault he couldn’t pretend he felt okay.

Auntie sighed once more and rubbed her eyes with her thumb and index finger. She looked so… tired.

When she removed her hand, her eyes were misty and avoidant. “... Would apologizin’ help any?” 

His eyebrows furrowed a little in confusion, because she’d already apologized. He almost managed to say as much, opening his mouth, but then she met his eye with a particularly knowing, anguished look and a memory flickered through his mind.

He and a few other kids had woken up to a commotion downstairs last night (or maybe the night before, he wasn’t sure how long it’d been since…). Yakko had gone to investigate it, but he was stopped by Auntie, who had come up to tell everyone awake that nothing was wrong and to go back to bed. In other words, she’d stopped him from seeing Mai be dragged away. She stopped him from saving her.

~~Never mind that he couldn’t have done anything. He was ten. He barely had a hold on his toon powers, which only worked if the situation was funny, and it most certainly would not have been funny that night. He couldn’t have stopped them even if he was there to try. He couldn’t have protected her. He couldn’t do anything.~~

He wasn’t sure if she was referring to that. He didn’t know if it mattered.

He considered the benefits of getting angry, of yelling and screaming that she denied him the chance to save his mom. He had every right to. His little family had been torn apart once again and he’d been powerless to stop it. Even worse, he hadn’t even known it’d happened until it was too late—he’d only went back to bed and slept while Mai probably screamed and cried for someone, anyone to help her.

He could scream. He could yell. He could cry.

He didn’t.

“No,” he said simply, allowing a realization to spread over him. He couldn’t allow Auntie to blame herself for this. Not when he knew the true culprit.

She pursed her lips and gave him a single, solid nod.

After all, it wasn’t her fault Mai was taken away. It wasn’t her fault he hurt.

It was his own. He saw that now.

The two settled into a heavy silence, which allowed Yakko to dissect this epiphany of his.

Really, he should’ve known better than to get comfortable. He should’ve known better than to let himself love again. All it did was hurt him. 

Look at the facts: he’d loved his dad; he died. He’d loved his first mom; she died. He’d loved his siblings; they were taken from him. And now Mai—he’d loved her and she died for it. Yakko was sensing a pattern.

Everyone he’d ever loved had either left him or died. So why even bother trying to love again, when it would just end up biting him in the tail?

He was cursed. That’s the only thing that made sense. The second he loved someone, they were doomed. And he’d be powerless to stop their demise. He should’ve seen it before, when his parents died and his sibs were sent away. It was so _obvious_ in hindsight. But he’d just been so _desperate_ for comfort after losing everything that he’d let himself latch onto her like—like some kind of _parasite_. And look what happened!

It’d be best for everyone if he just didn’t try anymore. They’d all be safer that way, he was sure of it. Auntie and Gracie, the other orphans, his _sibs_ —they’d all be better off if he just cut himself off from them. It was the only way to keep them safe.

…

He knew that, believed it with every fiber of his being, but then why did he still desperately wish for companionship? Why did he long to be held? Why did he _ache_ for his siblings?

He could still feel it in his chest, overshadowed by his grief over Mai but still very much present. He still wanted them back by his side. Why? Was he really so selfish that he’d risk destroying his remaining family when they’d finally gotten away from his curse? He would only hurt them if they came back, so why couldn’t he let it go? Hadn’t he hurt them enough?

After all, it was _his_ fault they were separated. He hadn’t gotten them out of the castle in time. If he had rushed them more that night, if he’d been quicker, if he’d held them just a bit _tighter_ , maybe they’d still be together. 

~~( _Mai said it wasn’t your fault,_ a voice whispered in his head.~~

~~_She also said she wouldn’t get in trouble if we kept quiet about escaping,_ something inside him countered, dark and bitter. _She said she’d always be here. She said I could count on her. She lied. Is it really so impossible to think she lied about that too?_~~

~~And… well, he couldn’t argue with that.)~~

But… maybe since it _was_ his fault, it was also his responsibility to reunite them. To get Wakko and Dot back together, where they belonged.

Yeah. Yeah, that made sense. He was just guilty, that’s what this feeling meant. He had a duty to get them back together again. He needed to atone for the horrible thing he’d done to them all those years ago. Wakko and Dot had been so _young_ , they hadn’t deserved being separated from each other.

He just had to find them. 

~~How?~~

He hadn’t seen them in four years—

~~_God, it’d been_ **_four years_** _, what was he_ **_doing_** _?_~~

—but they had to be alive. 

~~Did they?~~

He would know if they weren’t. 

~~How could he possibly know that? How could he know if they were alright and breathing and not dying from an illness or bleeding out in their bedroom or swaying from a rope—~~

He just had to get them back together and then his actions would be redeemed, and he could leave them before he affected them fully with his curse.

… He didn’t know if he could forgive himself if they died on his watch.

Auntie sighed again, bringing him back to the present. “What a pair we are, huh?” she said. There was a bitter smile on her face. “Drownin’ in grief so much we can’t even speak.” It was at this point Yakko noticed just how much her voice was shaking, just how quiet she’d spoken.

A pang went through his chest at the sorrow he’d caused her. If he hadn’t attached himself so thoroughly to Mai, she’d still be here and Auntie wouldn’t look so _lost_.

“I’m sorry,” he forced himself to say, voice breaking and soft. Tears filled his eyes as Auntie shook her head.

“No, baby, you’ve got nothin’ to apologize for,” she said, lying to his face. He knew she was just trying to make him feel better, but it was unnecessary.

“If I hadn’t…” he began, but then the lump in his throat swelled further. He couldn’t make himself say it, that it was all his fault Mai was dead. It just hurt so, so _much_.

Auntie gave him a watery smile, tears of her own filling her eyes. “No, baby,” she whispered, misunderstanding him. “She’d still be gone even if you hadn’t left. It would’ve just saved you some grief if you’d stayed put.”

He shook his head, not knowing how to explain, how to _warn_ her.

“It had nothing to do with you, Yakko,” Auntie firmly, but not unkindly, lied. “You are not responsible for her actions.”

_Yeah, just her death,_ he thought with a particularly sharp knife embedding itself in his heart.

Maybe this was part of the curse. Maybe he couldn’t tell anyone to stay away. Everyone who ever loved him was just doomed and he could do nothing but sit there and watch everyone meet their demise. He was so _horrible_ , how could he _do_ this to them—

“Oh, darling,” Auntie murmured, in response to his eyes overflowing. She leaned forward, opening her arms to him. “C’mere, you need a hug—”

“N-No!” he lied, shooting up and away from her reaching hands. He desperately wanted to be held. But he couldn’t. “Don’t… I don’ wanna be touched.”

There was a flash of hurt that she concealed just a second too late, and it brought a fresh wave of tears from his eyes, because even when he was trying to protect her, he hurt her. “Okay, baby, okay,” she said, letting her hands drop back into her lap. She gave him a sad smile that squeezed his heart.

He calmed with her retreat, his fur settling back down. He looked away from her mournful gaze, unable to handle it any longer.

After a few more moments of quiet, Auntie began, “Well—I didn’t sit with ya to just mourn.” His eyes flickered to her again and saw she was holding up a wrapped package. “Gotcha a little somethin’.”

He pursed his lips, wary of what a present could mean in terms of her affection for him. “What is it?”

“Th’point of a gift is for the receiver to open it.” Her tone made it sound like she was trying to make a joke, but it just didn’t land. Yakko just blankly stared at her before she sighed and held it out to him, her smile turning sad again. “Just… open it.”

Hesitatingly, he reached out and grabbed the item from her. He held it close to him, over his lap, considering it.

It was squishy—his fingers dipped into the brown wrapping, crinkling it. Some kind of fabric then? What could it—

He was struck, then, with the realization of the only thing it could be.

With his face grave and his heart twisting painfully in his chest, he slowly pulled the paper away from the object. Auntie was silent as he opened it, layer by agonizing layer.

Within seconds, he held in his hands the finished product of the modified overalls Mai had offered to make for him the day before she’d… Anyway. She'd taken the top off and hemmed it, making it more of a high-waisted situation. There were also loops surrounding the waistline, like for a belt, probably made from the excess from the top. It was clean and fresh, and had he not known what it looked like before, he would've said they were new.

… 

He hadn’t realized she’d been able to finish it before… 

“It was in her trunk,” Auntie said softly, probably taking his silence as incomprehension. “We… figured it was for you, considering.”

Yakko could only stare down at the folded fabric, hunched over his lap. His vision blurred and he saw tiny drops of water drip down, darkening it. He made no move to wipe his eyes.

He didn’t know what it was about it, but this was the last straw.

“Can I be alone?” he asked, not looking at her.

“What?” she asked, startled. “Um. I-I don’t think that’s—”

“Please,” he quietly begged, curling further in on himself. He just didn’t want her to see him break again. He had no doubt she’d try to comfort him, because she was kind and good, and he didn’t deserve that.

“... Okay,” she softly acquiesced. “But we’re here for you, okay? If you need anything— _anything_ ,” she stressed, “don’t hesitate to ask, okay? It’s a rough time for all of us.”

He nodded silently, feeling his grief slowly rising over him like a huge, cresting wave.

“... Okay,” she said again, and stood. Slowly, _so slowly, please move, get out before—_ , she made her way out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind her and there was a moment where nothing happened.

Then his breath hitched and his face crumpled and he fell apart.

He let out a truly pitiful noise, something between a whine and a sob, and his eyes burst with tears. He brought the pants up to his face, burying himself deep into the fabric like he could just disappear all together. 

All the while, memory after memory plagued him.

_“If it makes you feel better, then I don’t see any problem with it,”_ she’d said, smiling and sparkling and so kind it hurt his heart to think too hard about.

_“Look at me, Yakko Warner. **None** of that makes you useless.” _ She’d sounded so sure, so **angry** , but not at him, never at him.

_“What’s up with the whole painting-houses-on-a-hot-day-in-summer look?”_ she’d asked so playful and fond despite that day being her last.

_“You know you can come to me, right?”_ she’d said once, soft and insistent and loving, like she couldn’t bear to see him close himself off. _“I’m here for you, always. You can count on me.”_

_“‘Course not, bud,”_ she’d murmured, eyes shiny and warm and so full of love it made Yakko’s chest hurt. _“If you want to call me that, I don’t mind at all.”_

He _wailed_ into her gift, a wordless scream that rattled through his chest as his heart broke and tore and shattered all over again. He was caught in a riptide of his own grief, gasping and heaving and drowning drowning _drowning_.

_“Don’t eat so fast, bud.”_

_“Have fun at school, bud.”_

_“Why don’t you play with the other kids, bud? Socialize!”_

_“That bully’s talkin’ nonsense, bud, you’re so smart! My intelligent, creative boy.”_

_“I love you, bud. Don’t you forget that.”_

“Momma!” Yakko cried, the word broken and muffled and _agonizing_. “Momma, please come back, _please_ , I can’—I can’t _do_ this, _please_ —! _Momma_ —!”

But…

Nobody came.

And it would be a very long time before he let himself accept that.

—

May softly shut the door behind her, the knowledge that she’d failed to bring any sort of comfort to the poor boy in her care weighing heavily on her shoulders, and looked up to meet Gracie’s eye, worried and tearful.

“How is…?” she whispered and May simply shook her head. Gracie bit her lip, clenching her hands, which still held the pieces of paper containing their friend’s last words.

“Then… what are…?” Gracie looked as lost as May felt, not even finishing her sentence. 

“... We’ve gotta burn this,” May whispered, eyeing the letter in Gracie’s hands.

Gracie tensed, gasping. “But—no, we—it’s the last thing she’s said to us, we _can’t_ —”

“I know,” May said, quiet and mournful. She didn’t want to burn it either. But she saw the way Yakko looked in there. She saw the way he gaped at her body. She heard the way he cried for her. He adored her and clearly blamed himself for her death, and if he somehow managed to get his hands on this letter… “But if Yakko saw it—” 

“I know, but—” Gracie let out a quiet breath, eyes becoming even shinier. She lifted one hand to her mouth, trying to compose herself. “I can’t. Not yet.”

May pursed her lips before nodding gravely. It was just too soon.

Gracie looked down at the paper with a sniffle, eyes roving over the messy script again. May didn’t know how many times her friend had reread it in the past day or so, but she knew it was more than May had, which was a feat in itself. She could almost picture the letter in her head by now… 

> _My dear friends,_  
>  _You may think me selfish, writing this instead of telling you directly. Or cowardly. Perhaps I am. I know you’d try to talk me out of it, but… I can’t aid and abet the emotional turmoil our boy is being put through anymore._ ~~_He called me mom, I_~~ _It just isn’t fair to him, or to his family._ ~~_He’s_ ~~_They’ve already lost so much, how can I in good conscience let it continue? How can I continue to torture this poor boy? I can’t stand it anymore._  
>  _I’m taking Yakko and leaving, first thing tomorrow morning. The guards will be busy with the hangings so it’ll be easier to sneak him out. I’ve already got a guy willing to take me out of the city. Don’t worry, he doesn’t know about Yakko. He thinks I’m just hitching a ride myself. I know it’s horrible that I’m making him accidentally commit treason, but if I’m being completely honest, I don’t care. The only thing that matters is getting Yakko_ _out_ _. We’ll find his siblings and sneak them out somehow. Maybe I’ll even adopt them legally if we manage to find them quick enough that our names and faces aren’t plastered everywhere on wanted signs._  
>  _Crazy, isn’t it? That I’ll be a criminal in less than twenty-four hours? All for reuniting a family, too. What a horrible world we live in._  
>  _I’m sorry. I truly am. I know things are hard enough with just the three of us and by leaving, I’m making it even more difficult. My words don’t make up for this, I know that, but I hope you accept my apology anyway. I hope you understand why I’m doing this. I hope you agree._  
>  _I love you two. I love all of our kids. Hey, look on the bright side—at least this time, when you tell them I’m “on a trip”, you’ll actually be right. I do feel bad about Yakko’s new friends; they seem to like him quite a bit. Maybe one day they’ll see each other again. Maybe Yakko would even be king._  
>  _But I digress. I don’t know if I’ll see you in the morning or not. I wonder if you’ll be able to tell. You, May, were always so good at pulling the truth from me. And Gracie, you’re just too hard to lie to. It may be best if I don’t see you, but I don’t think my heart could take not saying goodbye…_  
>  _Regardless, I suppose this will have to do._  
>  _… I’m sorry. Again. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I’ll miss you. I love you. Take care of the other kids for me. Give them a great big hug and kiss from their second favorite Mai._  
>  _With love,_  
>  _Mai_

May remembered seeing Mai write this, though she hadn’t known it at the time. She thought she might’ve seen her write another letter. She wondered what happened to it.

Gracie laughed wetly, pulling May from her memory. She sniffled and wiped her eye, holding out the paper. “I just—” she laughed again, which pulled more tears from her eyes. “I just saw this line—the _when you tell them I’m on a trip, you’ll be right_ part, and I just—” She sobbed, curling in on herself and covering her face with both hands, paper and all.

May’s words were choked as she said, “Oh, honey, c’mere—” She grabbed the paper from the other’s hands and wrapped her arms around her, bringing Gracie’s face into her chest.

“It just isn’t _fair_ ,” Gracie sobbed.

May let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes against her own tears. “No, hon, it ain’t.” Her mouth wavered and her throat ached with repressed cries of her own. She buried her face in Gracie’s hair and wetly said, “It really, _really_ ain’t.”

Later, they would go back down and take care of their children. They would serve dinner and reassure the older ones and play with the younger ones and make sure no one went up and saw Yakko before he was ready. They would be the pillars they needed to be, because the times were scary and horrible, and every single child under their care needed them. And they would be there every time.

But that was then.

Now… they only held each other and grieved. It was all they could do.

* * *

It was break time during the school day and Mel was in charge of watching the kids inside. Abby was with some of the kids outside, making sure they didn't get hurt, and Marge was doing paperwork in the office. ~~(Budgeting, probably. Over the last few years or so they'd started getting less and less money to keep themselves afloat. And with that new taxcollector, Baron von Plotz, slowly but surely stripping Acme Falls of every penny they had, things were tight. Mel wasn't sure they'd be able to… well. Anyway.)~~

Mel could hear the kids outside laughing and screaming joyfully, and it brought her mind back to the present. A smile adorned her face as she glanced around the room to see if any of her kids needed help with anything.

Technically this was a free period, where the kids could do whatever they wanted, whether that was playing, sleeping, eating, or what have you. Usually it was scarcely populated with the more introverted kids either reading or finishing homework, but today she had a surprising participant.

Wakko sat alone at one of the tables with several sheets of paper in front of him, a black crayon in one hand and the other scratching at his capped head.

He seemed deep in thought as he stared down at his paper, brow furrowed and tongue out as usual. He hesitantly pressed his crayon back to the paper, made a little mark, and immediately pulled it away like it had burned him. His frown deepened and Mel felt a bit of concern pull at her.

She kept her smile relaxed and easy-going as she made her way over, making sure he could see her so she didn't accidentally spook him.

"Hey, Wakko," she softly greeted, so as to not bother the other kids. He glanced up at her, looking slightly surprised. He immediately covered the paper in front of him with his hand, and well, wasn't that just the most suspicious thing?

Still, she smiled and met his eye again. "You looked like you were havin' a bit of trouble there. Anything I can help you with?"

He hesitated, eyes darting down to some of the papers he hadn't been able to completely cover. She followed his eye and saw bits and pieces of a strangely shaped black creature.

He was drawing, then, which made a little excitement grow in her. She was an artist, after all. She’d love to be able to help him with her passion.

She wondered why he seemed so cagey about it.

Mel looked back at Wakko. "No wrong answer, bud. If you want help, that's fine, but if you're alright, that's fine too."

Wakko looked considering, and after a moment of silence he mumbled, "Do you… know how to draw?"

Mel lit up. "Why, yes I do!" she said proudly before gesturing to the empty seat beside him. "May I sit?"

He nodded, looking a bit hopeful, and she sat next to him.

"So!" she began, smiling brightly. "What're we drawing?"

"Um," he hesitated again, subdued but still hopeful. He removed his hand from the paper in front of him and slid it a little closer to her for her to see.

She leaned forward and took in the full image. She was right about it being some sort of black creature, though it also had quite a bit of purple in the torso area, and it looked more humanoid than she'd initially seen. She couldn't really differentiate many characteristics from it besides the coiled tail protruding from its side, the antennae/ears curving from its head, and the bright red filled circle in the center of its face that may or may not be a nose.

She glanced at one of the other pages and saw that it held a very similar drawing, except its body was red and black instead of purple and black.

Oh! The red and purple were clothing when the red wasn't a nose.

…Ah. She knew what he was drawing.

She looked back at Wakko with a smile. "Very pretty, Wakko! What did you need help with?"

His face scrunched up a little as he pulled the paper back. He struggled with his words a little, though it was more in a _don't know what to say_ way rather than a _physically can't say it_ way. Finally, he managed, "It's… just not right."

"That can be frustrating." Mel nodded. "You have an image of it in your head but when you try to put it to paper, it just doesn't come out right. But don't worry too much about it, you'll get better the more you draw—"

"I wanna be good _now_ ," Wakko interrupted, uncharacteristically sharp.

Mel startled a little, blinking, before saying hesitantly, “It takes time and practice to improve, Wakko. That doesn’t mean what you have now isn’t good, though. I think your art is beautiful for you starting out.”

“Please don’t lie to me…” Wakko mumbled, looking incredibly put out.

“I’m not!” Mel insisted. “Seriously, Wakko, I love what you’ve drawn. It’s creative and unique, and the best part is that you made it yourself.”

“It—It doesn’t even _look_ like anything,” Wakko complained. He threw his crayon down and crossed his arms over his chest, hunching in on himself. “Wha’s the point if I can’t even tell what I drew?”

Mel hummed a little and tilted her head so she could catch Wakko’s eye. “The point is just to get it out there. Look at this—” She gently brushed her fingers over one of the drawings. “This only existed in your head before you drew it with your own hand! Isn’t that incredible?”

“Incredibly _bad_ ,” Wakko countered, and Mel’s brow furrowed.

“... What’s up, Wakko?” she gently asked. “You’re usually much more optimistic than this; is something on your mind?”

“M’hat,” he muttered, and well, she walked into that one.

“Right,” she softly laughed. “And what’s bothering you?”

He didn’t answer for a long time. He only pouted quietly and tugged on a portion of his sleeve. His eyes darted from paper to paper, like he was trying to figure out a puzzle.

Mel waited, figuring he just needed some time to decide how to describe his feelings, but after a while, she thought he might just be refusing to answer.

She wondered what she could say to try and get through to him. If only Abby, her incredible, emotionally-present wife, was the one sitting beside him—Wakko hadn’t quite let go of that initial favoritism from his first years. Or Marge, her other wonderful, intellectual wife—she could figure out a solution to Wakko’s problem in no time flat.

But they weren’t. It was just her.

Well. It was about time she had some character development anyway.

“... I know it can be hard to forget,” she murmured. Wakko tensed beside her and she gave him a sad smile. “It feels kinda like a betrayal, right? Like they somehow weren’t important enough to you to remember clearly. How horrible could you be?”

Wakko ducked his head and his hat slid forward a little, casting his eyes in shadow.

Mel looked to his drawings again, waving her hand slowly over them. “But… does this look like something someone who’s fine with forgetting would do? Drawing the people they were forgetting over and over again, berating themself for even the slightest mistake?” Wakko sniffled and Mel glanced at him again.

He’d lifted his head and was gazing at his drawings with tears in his eyes, his lips trembling around his tongue.

“Hey,” she softly called and he looked at her. “I don’t think so. Do you?”

With another sniffle, he shook his head and raised his fists to his eyes. As he rubbed them, he mumbled, “I couldn’ remember m’parents at all. No’ Mummy, not Daddoo. No’ their shape or their voice or _anythin’_. I couldn’ act as ‘em, so I though’ maybe drawin’ somethin’ that kinda looked like me but bigger would help, but…”

“It didn’t work out,” Mel finished, nodding. “I’m sorry you can’t remember your parents. It’s unbearable when you can’t recall their faces.” Her eyes went distance with old grief for a moment, and when she came back, Wakko was looking at her again with an open, vulnerable look in his eyes.

“You too…?” he asked, and Mel gave him another sad smile.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Me too.”

He scooted his chair closer to hers until they were aligned and pressed himself against her side. “I’m sorry,” he said, and Mel quietly laughed.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, wrapping her arms around him. “I appreciate it.”

He nodded seriously and looked back at his drawings. He frowned at them.

Mel hummed a little. “Hey, Wakko?”

“Yeah?” He tilted his head up to look at her.

“Just…” she began. “You know you can always talk to any of us—Abby, Marge, or me—about when you’re feelin’ down, right? That’s what we’re here for. And…” She gave him a lopsided smile and squeezed him a bit tighter. “It’s alright if you’re not always feelin’ optimistic. Lookin’ on the bright side all the time isn’t easy. Sometimes… you gotta let yourself feel the bad stuff.”

“... Okay,” he murmured. He looked back down at his drawings and Mel rubbed his arm comfortingly, looking too.

“... You know,” she commented after a moment, whispering like she was telling a secret. “I was serious about the improving. The more you do something, the better you’ll be at it. If you keep at it, I’m sure you’ll be drawing your parents in no time.”

“You really think so?” he asked, looking up at her again, that hopeful gleam in his eye returning.

“I _know_ so,” she said.

“Okay.” Finally, a smile broke across his face, and her heart squeezed at just how adorable he looked. “Thank you.”

“Any time, Wakko,” she promised. Then she clapped her hands and sat up straight. “Now! Is this art gonna draw itself?”

“If only,” Wakko bemoaned, and Mel’s laughter faded into the scene shift.

* * *

The second Marin stepped through the door, Dot darted over, grabbed his hand, and dragged him toward the stairs.

"Wh—Dot!" Marin cried, incredulous, but there was a smile on his lips.

"Nice t'see you too, Dottie," Ryan joked, and without looking back, Dot raised her fist and gave him a very age-inappropriate gesture.

Ryan squawked while the other two and Marin burst into laughter. She was torn because it always felt amazing getting them all to laugh, like she was getting a good grade in socializing (which was both normal to want and possible to achieve), but them laughing also meant they weren’t taking her threat seriously, which would lead to more instances of her being called _Dottie_. Her proof being this very moment, as she was positive she and Ryan or Marin or even Jessica sometimes had had this very same scene happen both in previous chapters and behind the scenes. It was a win-lose situation for sure.

"I gotta vent," Dot explained as she released his hand so she could _boingy boingy_ up the stairs. She burst into the communal bedroom with Marin's continued laughter following her up.

“Come _on!_ ” she called, bouncing in the doorway.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” Marin said and a few seconds later he entered the bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the nearest bed with an amused smile on his face and gestured for her to begin.

"They said they're gonna make me do adoption interviews again!" Dot complained, beginning to pace in front of him. The smile froze on Marin’s face, but she’d been holding this in for a few hours now and needed to get it out. "Can you believe that?"

"Uh…"

"Right?" Dot continued. "They were all _y’gotta let go’a that crazy fantasy of yours_. Like, _they’re_ the ones that are crazy, right?”

“Eh, yeah…”

“It's like they always just _forget_ my family is still out there, waiting!” She threw her hands in the air. “I can’t get adopted! This girl is _unavailable_. Dot Warner is officially out of stock! Why can't they understand that?"

"Mhm," Marin mumbled distractedly. Dot paused and glanced at him before finally noticing just how uncomfortable he looked.

"... Are you okay?" she cautiously asked.

He winced a little and nodded. Then, with a moment's hesitation, he patted the space next to him. "Yeah, I… just gotta tell you something."

Warily, Dot joined him on the bed. Marin didn't look her in eye even as she leaned forward to try to make him. Eventually, she prompted, "What is it?"

"I…" he hesitated, then sighed. "Okay, look, just… don't freak out, okay? It's not as bad as you think."

"Y'really aren't makin' me feel great, bro," Dot responded and Marin huffed out a laugh.

"Sorry, sorry, just…" He sighed again and finally met her eye. "I'm accepting an adoption request."

Dot blinked. Processed. Blinked some more.

Her ears were ringing. 

“—but really, it’s more of a _free labor_ thing, honestly,” Marin was saying, “‘cause like, who can afford kids in this economy? But technically, it’s adoption so… yeah.”

"... What?" she asked, feeling strangely breathless. She could feel her ink thudding through her veins.

Marin winced again and repeated, "I said I’m… I'm going to be adopted. For work."

"No, yeah, I heard you the first time," Dot said, anger suddenly building within her. She could feel her fur stiffening, her tail shifting, agitated, behind her. "I just don't quite get _why_ , exactly, you'd do that."

"It—well…" Marin huffed out a breath. "I overheard Les 'n Deb talking the other day, a-about, like, the budget or whatever." Dot did not care one _bit_ about Leslie and Deb, Dot _cared_ about why Marin thought it was okay to just _leave_. "A-And they were makin' it sound like there wasn't enough money to keep this place runnin' anymore, and like—" He laughed then, a short, harsh sound that startled Dot. "Well, it's not like every kid-less couple in Burbank are kicking down the door tryin' to get their hands on an orphaned teenager so—" He gave a violent shrug. "I gotta take what I can get, y'know?"

And that—well, she knew a lot about settling with what you're given, didn't she?

… That didn't mean she had to accept it.

" _No_ , actually, I don't," she lied through her teeth and only felt marginally bad about it. "Who cares if they don't have money anymore, it's not like they ever really spend it on us!" She crossed her arms and turned away from him, pouting petulantly and pretending she wasn't. "Why's that gotta change anythin'?"

"Wh—because if they don't have money, then they don't have any reason to keep taking care of us!" Marin said, sounding utterly baffled.

"They don't exactly take care of us _now_ , Marin!" Dot argued.

"Regardless of what _parent of the year award_ they lack," Marin said sarcastically, "it's _their_ money that puts food on the table and gives us clothes and provides us school supplies—"

"You mean, provides _you_ with school supplies," Dot said bitterly. The words her guardian had said to her back when she’d first asked about school were burned into her mind: "After all, I'm just not _built_ for school and _learning_ and generally being _smart_ . That's a _human_ thing, you know."

Marin made a frustrated noise, looking pained. "You _know_ none of us kids think that, Dot!"

She did. Or at least, she wanted to. That didn't mean she couldn't be petty about it.

“Oh yeah, like that makes it _all better!_ ” Dot cried, and she cursed her eyes for burning as she threw her hands up. “Thank _goodness_ the human kids don’t think the toon kid is stupid as a bag of rocks! That certainly makes being left out of school and learning and cliques and friends not hurt at all!”

“You wouldn’t even _like_ school,” he brushed off. “It’s loud and cramped and hard and miserable.”

“Well, I don’t even get to decide that, do I?” she countered. “ _You_ get to feel that way, ‘cause you’ve been there, but me? I just have to take your word for it, don’t I?”

Marin winced before blowing out a breath. “Look, I’m sorry you’re not allowed to go to school, but this isn’t the point.” Dot crossed her arms again and grumbled a little. “The point is if we don’t have money, the orphanage will be shut down, and I doubt the city’ll let a bunch of orphans just chill in a foreclosed building. We’d be on the _streets_ if we don’t get a family to take us in and…” He shook his head.

“You don’t know that’ll happen,” Dot mumbled, definitely not pouting again.

Marin gave her a… _look_ then, one that was scarily reminiscent of the one Leslie gave her when she thought Dot was acting or saying something stupid. It immediately raised her hackles again.

“You _don’t_ ,” Dot repeated, anger flaring. “Maybe—Maybe they were just talking about not having enough money for the latest _fashion_ , or—or _jewelry_ or something equally unimportant, and not about the orphanage.”

Marin sighed. “Fine. _Maybe_ they were. But if not…” He shook his head again. “I don’t want to risk it. You and the other kids have a much higher chance of getting adopted, so I’m not too worried about you all, but I don’t want to be on the streets during winter.”

Her anger rose at the implication that she’d get adopted, as well as… something else. “Stop talking like it’s gonna happen!” she nearly hissed. “It’s not! They wouldn’t stop giving Leslie and Deb money they’re supposed to use on us, that doesn’t make any sense anyway!”

“It’s just a precaution, Dot,” Marin argued.

“It’s a baseless precaution!” she yelled back. That Something Else from before grew inside her, making her eyes burn and her heart clench and her hands shake. Her tail lashed angrily behind her.

“No, it’s not!” Marin countered. "Taxes and budget cuts have been hurting everybody all over the city!"

"Why would they shut down a home for orphans? There's no point to throwing out a bunch of kids!" Nobody's that cruel, are they?

"If it means more money for the people in charge, there is!"

"It—they wouldn't do that!" What would she do if she wasn't found yet—

“Yes, actually, they would!" Marin threw his hands up in frustration. "I don’t understand why you’re so upset with me over this!"

"Th-There's just no point to getting adopted if you don't have to!" She felt near tears.

"You don't seem to get that I _might_ have to! And it's not like I get hundreds of offers!"

"I-I—" He wasn't _listening_.

"And not all of us have family out there for us to find!"

"I know, but—!" She _needed_ him, he couldn't just—!

“And I’m gonna be aging out the system in a year anyway, so I might as well get a place to stay before I’m _Marin the Orphan_ forever!”

“Don’t _say_ that, I—!”

"So stop yelling at me about it! You’re not gonna change my mind, Dot!”

“ _You can’t just_ **_leave_ ** _me again, Yakko!_ ”

All the air abruptly left her with a gasp. Her gaze shot up (when had she looked down?) and met Marin’s own wide-eyed stare. He looked utterly heartbroken, all his previous anger completely drained away. Dot bet she didn’t look any better.

The longer she looked, the harder it was to keep a tight hold on the tears that threatened to burst out. The older she got, the more difficult it seemed to keep herself from crying, which was incredibly frustrating, because she almost always had something to cry about.

“... Marin,” she breathlessly corrected after too long. “Y-You can’t just… _leave_ m— _us_ , Marin… We _need_ you, I—”

Dot tried desperately to keep herself from breaking, but then Marin’s eyes softened, looking so incredibly sad for her, and he reached out to touch her shoulder, making her realize she was violently shaking, and she just _couldn’t_.

Her face crumpled with a broken whimper and she launched herself into his arms. They immediately came around and hugged her tightly as she wept into his chest. One of his hands pet the back of her head as he nuzzled his cheek to the side of her wrapped, drooping ears. He murmured quiet assurances and she was violently reminded of her first year there, when he would do this very same thing for her. She felt that small again, now. Like a baby who didn’t understand where her family was. It absolutely _sucked_ , but she couldn’t deny how nice it was letting someone comfort her. Even if it came with the regular, gut-wrenching anxiety. Even if she knew he was only doing that because he was the designated Dot Calmer.

Eventually, her tears abated and she could breathe again. She couldn’t quite bring herself to remove her face from his chest, but Marin didn’t seem to be in any rush to move either. They sat there silently for a spell, with Marin softly, slowly, petting her head.

“... I’m still accepting the adoption,” he murmured, breath brushing her ears, and she made a mournful sound. She curled further into him, hands gripping his shirt tightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…” He sighed before turning his head so he could gently kiss the curve of hers. “I don’t mean to hurt you. I’m not… I’ll still be here. In the city, I mean. I’m not leaving completely. I just won’t live here.” He pulled back a little, forcing Dot to face the light. She glanced up a little, tired and wet-faced and embarrassed. He smiled reassuringly. “I’ll still be in your life. I promise.”

“... Really?” She hated how small she sounded. 

“Really.” He nodded. His smile softened and he leaned in to boop their noses together.

It caused another wave of grief to wash over her, but she managed to stop the fresh set of tears from pouring, instead wetly giggling and burying her face back into his collar. 

“Also…” He continued after her answering nuzzle, “Just… me too, you know?”

“Hm?” she questioned softly.

“I…” he huffed a little breath, a little embarrassed. “You’re like a sibling to me, you know that, right? All of you are.”

And—well, she honestly wasn’t expecting that. She obviously thought of him as her brother ~~(and mildly like a stand-in Yakko and Wakko, which always made her heart hurt to think about)~~ , but knowing he thought the same… 

“Thank you,” she whispered, and he answered her with a squeeze and affectionate nuzzle.

“Any time, kid,” he murmured, fond and soft. “Any time…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes I did watch wandavision and yes that is a reference to it.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](https://imbeccable-writes.tumblr.com/)


End file.
